Blessed Aetherius
by Jessica Marsh
Summary: It is 3E 433, and Lily Laroque has been a priestess in the Great Chapel of Kvatch for three joyous years. But her idyllic life is violently disrupted when the Daedric Invasion begins, and she is tossed into Cyrodiil to force her wounds to heal.
1. Prologue

_Note: this is my first fanfic for anyone but me to read, and it's my first Oblivion fanfic. Be gentle :D_

Ever since she was a little girl, Lily wanted to become a mage. It wasn't just that it was nearly obligation—after all, she was a Breton, and her people were incredibly skilled with Magicka of all varieties. It truly fascinated her, the realm of mages and wizards. And it had to be respectable; after all, there was an entire guild dedicated to it.

Had she been born in High Rock, she would have received the proper training to become a mage, and at an early age. Even having been born in Cyrodiil, she could have entered a life of magic when she became old enough. Unfortunately, she lived alone with her father and sister on a small farm in between Anvil and Kvatch, which was completely isolated from either city, though both boasted a Mages Guild hall.

Marie scoffed at her younger sister's dreams. Louis wanted desperately to support her, but they hadn't the money to send her to Anvil or Kvatch, or even Skingrad further to the east. Their little farm brought in enough money to keep the Laroque family alive, and not much more.

By the time she was ten, all hopes of becoming a mage were slipping from Lily's mind, and more tangible things like caring for the farm took the newly vacated space. Marie approved of this. Louis appreciated the help Lily gave, but she knew it broke his heart to see his young daughter giving up her dreams.

Oftentimes during the year, travellers weary from the hike between cities or Legionnaires taking a break from their patrols stopped at the farm for supplies, rest, or even simply someone to talk to. Lily and Marie grew up around strangers coming in and out of the house at all hours of the day. Some stayed for minutes; other remained for days. Louis was more than happy to welcome them in and offer them what they needed when they chose to depart.

So it wasn't a surprise when Marie came into the house one afternoon to say that she saw a young Imperial man heading up the path from the Gold Road.

Lily, seventeen by this time, had long since abandoned all wish to become a mage and had accepted a life of farming. Marie, at twenty, was preoccupied with heading for a city to find a suitor, get married and settle down. It came as no surprise to Lily or Louis when Marie was bubbling over with excitement when she spotted the Imperial.

"He's young, Papa," she exclaimed in a hushed voice. "He can't be more than twenty-five. And he's looks well-off from what I could see. Granted, he was still by the Gold Road when I saw him, but he didn't look as thin and starved as some of the men who show up here, and—"

"Marie," Louis interjected, chuckling. From her spot at the table, kneading dough, Lily saw an embarrassed smile crawl onto her sister's face. "I know you want to leave, and you rightly should at twenty. But just because one Imperial fellow showed up at our house doesn't mean he's going to be the one to marry you."

Lily giggled when a hot blush blossomed on Marie's cheeks. Her sister's sharp grey gaze shot over to Lily. "Shut your mouth, Lily. At least I've got realistic expectations. I don't want to be a robed fool who frolics around a university playing with spells."

Lily clamped her mouth shut and glowered at her sister when she looked away. Louis sighed heavily and put down the ears of corn he had been holding. "Don't speak to your sister that way, Marie. That was completely uncalled for. Now go welcome this Imperial to our home and finish up outside. I want the rest of those potatoes in the cellar today, young lady."

After Marie did as she was told and left the house, Lily let out a heavy sigh and buried her hands into the thick, sticky dough. "Thanks, Papa."

"Of course, Lily." Louis made himself comfortable on the wooden chair by the hearth and continued counting the corn from the harvest.

Only a few minutes later, the door opened again. Marie shuffled inside, head bowed so her dark auburn hair spilled over her face, and behind her came the Imperial she had been so excited to meet.

He looked like any other to Lily. She couldn't see what was so remarkable about him. Wavy brown hair, olive skin, warm brown eyes, tall; he was no wealthy lord dancing in to sweep anyone off their feet, though there was a rugged handsomeness about him, probably because of his lightly dusted clothes and the dark stubble on his face.

"Welcome, sir," Louis said cheerfully. He abandoned his parchment, quill and corn to stand and shake the Imperial's hand. Marie slunk back outside the moment the newcomer was distracted, and Lily watched covertly as she continued to knead the dough. "Where are you coming from, where are you headed? Come, sit."

The Imperial let Louis lead him to the table where Lily stood. "I left Chorrol last night and I'd like to be in Anvil soon, but I thought I'd take a break. Your farm is very well known in Kvatch, Mr Laroque. It came highly recommended by more than a few people as a place to rest."

Louis chuckled and waved their guest to a chair opposite Lily. "Well, I can't turn away anyone who shows up at my door. Please excuse the mess. I take it Marie made proper introductions? This is my younger daughter, Lily."

There was something almost uncomfortably friendly in the way he looked at her, as if his gaze could keep her trapped. "I'm Jacob Bercarius."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Bercarius," Lily said politely, nodding somewhat and smiling. He seemed like a likeable fellow, but there was something off about him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Louis called from the kitchen behind Lily. "We have mead, wine, ale… the only thing we seem to be out of at the moment is brandy."

"Actually, do you have water?" the Imperial asked loud enough for Louis to hear. He was leaning one elbow on the table, watching Lily knead as if hypnotized. She wasn't sure if she was comfortable with it or not. He seemed like such a strange man, and yet she had only known him for such a short time. "It's a hot day out there, and wolves scared off my horse before I made it to Kvatch, so I've been walking a while."

Louis popped out of the kitchen behind Lily and lightly rested a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, of course, whatever you like. Lily, dear, entertain a bit while I go to the well." With that, he scooted around the table and vanished out the front door.

They remained in silence for a short while after Louis left. Lily quickly finished up the kneading and rolled the dough into a ball before wiping her hands off on the apron around her waist, protecting her simple blue and green dress. "Why are you headed for Anvil, Mr Bercarius?" she asked as she plopped the dough onto a plate beside her.

"Oh, you know, a change of scenery," he replied cheerfully, waving a hand absently. "I was bored of looking at that same old tree in Chorrol every day of my life. Anvil's got a bit more character."

"I've only been a few times," Lily admitted, sweeping her hand across the table to collect the loose flour. "I'm afraid I haven't even been further east than Skingrad."

Thick dark brown brows arched. "Really? You need to see the Imperial City. You'll lose yourself there, I guarantee it."

Lily piled more sticky dough on the flour in front of her and prepared to knead it into something that might become decent bread soon. "I had plans to go when I was younger, but it didn't work out."

He was lightly drumming his fingers on the wooden tabletop; it was a pleasant background sound to their conversation. "Yeah? Why didn't you go?"

She sighed softly and used her wrist to tuck a loose lock of wavy copper hair behind her ear. "I wanted to become a mage, but we didn't have the money to send me to a guild hall, or the Arcane University."

"I've been to the university. It's a great place, and I'm not overly fond of magic so that's saying a lot. If you don't have enough to join the guild, why don't you just go to Kvatch and become a priest, or priestess or whatever?" he suggested simply. "It's closer than Anvil at least, and you wouldn't have to spend much. They learn restorative magic, don't they? That's almost as good as being a mage, and probably as close as you'll get."

Lily felt a grin make itself known on her lips. "You know, I've never even considered that before. You're right; they practice Restoration… that would be a wonderful alternative."

"What's a wonderful alternative?" Louis' voice came from the front door as he returned from the well. There was a jug of water in his arms and this he set on the table between Lily and Jacob.

"Oh, Mr Bercarius said that I should go to a chapel and become a priestess since we can't afford to send me to the Mages Guild or the Arcane University," Lily explained, stopping her kneading for a moment. A sudden warmth bloomed inside her at the thought of finally becoming a mage, even if it was through the body of a priest. She hadn't felt this determined to study Magicka since she was young. "What do you think, Papa?"

Louis returned from the kitchen with three clay goblets. He set one in front of Jacob and Lily, and sat down with the last in his hands. "A priestess? That would be interesting. If you really truly want to, Lily, give it more thought. You can't just jump to conclusions. Priests live hard lives. And you aren't very devout," he pointed out as he lifted the jug and poured water for each of them.

Lily plunked into the chair behind her and dusted off her hands on her apron before grabbing her goblet. "I know, but I can be. There's the Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch and the Chapel of Dibella in Anvil, right?"

"Yep," said Jacob as he lifted his cup.

Lily waved at him with her free hand. "See, I could just learn to be devout. I'm only not now because I don't know anything about the Nine Divine."

Louis smiled and shook his head, though not in refusal. "Ah, look what you started," he chuckled, rolling his eyes at Jacob. "Now she's going to be stuck on this for ten years unless she actually goes to a chapel."

Jacob merely raised his brows and said, "I do what I can."

"Well, that's helpful of you. How long would you like to stay, Mr Bercarius?"

"Maybe overnight, if it's no trouble to you. I'm in no big rush to get to Anvil, and I'm tired. Walking from Kvatch is exhausting work."

Louis clapped his hands together. "No trouble, of course! I'll go upstairs to get the nice spare room ready. Lily, finish with the dough; I want bread again one of these days."

—

"Are the rest of the potatoes in the cellar?"

"Yes, Papa," Marie murmured tiredly. She swayed somewhat as she stood by the stairs leading to the second storey of the farmhouse. Lily wondered how she was managing to stay awake at all, as she had been outside collecting potatoes all day.

"Go to bed, sweet," Louis suggested kindly. As Marie staggered up the stairs to comply, their father turned to Lily, who was lounging on a couch in front of the hearth near the Imperial Legion soldier who had showed up around dinnertime. "And the bread is baking?"

"You saw me put it in, Papa. Do you know where _Purloined Shadows_ is?" she asked, staring into the hearth. The crackling red tongues flicked at the stone blocks surrounding them, and tiny orange sparks danced up until fading into the fires of Oblivion. Lily blinked languidly and shivered when the comfortable heat of the fire filled her completely. "I think I lost it."

Louis sighed softly and sat down at the foot of the couch beside his daughter. "I don't even know what that is, Lily."

"A book. I wanted to read it."

"Isn't it about Nocturnal?" Jacob Bercarius asked from his place nearer to the fire. The warm orange light caught golden strands in his hair and made his brown eyes glow.

The soldier, whose name was Marius Rotarius, spoke up as well. "The Daedric Prince?"

Lily smiled a little embarrassedly, but nobody could see her blush in the light of the fire. "Yes, the Daedric Prince."

Her father grunted and leaned back. "You know more about Daedra than the Nine Divine?"

"No. I haven't found any interesting books about the Nine Divine yet. The Daedric Princes, though, always have interesting books."

Louis chuckled, and even Jacob and Marius uttered soft laughs. "And you who want to become a priest in a chapel. You silly girl," the middle-aged redhead remarked. "I moved a few old books to a chest in the corner of the room. Whatever you're looking for might be there."

Lily climbed to her feet and trudged behind the couch to reach the chest her father had mentioned. She paid vague attention to the idle conversation Louis, Marius and Jacob shared—they were discussing politics, she thought; the health of Emperor Uriel Septim and his family. Heaving the lid of the chest open, Lily stared inside until she spotted the book she wanted hiding underneath an old copy of _A Less Rude Song_. She snatched it up and strode across the dimly lit room. Pausing by the stairs, she glanced briefly out the window. The moonlight was wan as it shone down on Cyrodiil; thick black shadows formed beneath trees and bushes, and night time creatures scampered through long grasses across the Gold Road.

"Are you going to head upstairs then, Lily?" Louis briefly stopped his conversation—which had quickly went from the Emperor to the Arena stadium in the Imperial City.

"Yes, I think I'll read a bit and go to bed."

"Oh, before you do, Lily," he said, "Mr Rotarius is headed for Kvatch tomorrow morning. If you really want to see the chapel and decide if you want to join, he could escort you."

Lily resisted the urge to grin, though she wanted desperately to. "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Mr Rotarius."

The soldier nodded and leaned over from his chair to flick a curious bug off his armour, which he had removed and was piled neatly beside him. Sitting up straight, he smiled warmly at the girl. "You're very welcome, Miss Laroque. I wouldn't wish a young lady to have to travel the road alone."

"That's very generous of you. Goodnight, Papa, Mr Bercarius, Mr Rotarius." Lily waved quickly before padding silently up the stone steps to the second floor of the house. In the room closest to the stairs, she could hear Marie's soft sighs; she was already asleep, the poor thing. The next door was Lily's, and the one beside it was a spare, currently Jacob Bercarius'. Across the narrow hallway was three more: two spares, one for Marius Rotarius, and Louis'.

Torches were out and candles were sparse, so Lily reached out and dragged her hand along the wall until she found the second door on the right side. She shuffled inside and blindly lit a few candles on the dresser in the corner. Once sufficient light flickered from the candles, Lily tossed the book onto her small, creaky bed and opened the curtains to her window. Past the farm, all she could see were the high tips of the trees of the Gold Coast. In her mind's eye, she could see the towers and spires of Kvatch to the east, and a little sigh escaped her.

Tomorrow, the east would be hers.


	2. Assassination!

Assassination!

A hand touched her shoulder, and Lily lifted her bowed head, opening her eyes. The large stone altar of the Nine Divine squatted before her, cold and grey like everything else. Lily dropped her hands to the sides, done praying, and glanced behind her to see the smiling face of another priest, Brother Martin. His stunning blue eyes sparkled even in the dim light of the chapel, and the hand on her rough grey robes was light and comforting.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lily," he said softly in his gentle, passive voice. "Someone is here for you."

Lily frowned and Martin's hand slipped off her shoulder. He held it out to her, and she took it. After he helped her back to her feet from kneeling on the hard stone floor, she peered around him and didn't see anyone out of the ordinary; the old priest Ilav Dralgoner, and Oleta, the Redguard healer, and an Imperial soldier in full uniform standing by the door, making conversation with Ilav.

"Oh. Do you know who it is?" Lily asked, walking slowly with Martin down the aisle between the pews.

"He didn't give me his name, but he said he was an old friend of Lily Laroque." Martin ran a hand through his dark brown waves and paused by the stairs heading to the undercroft and priests' rooms. "I wouldn't trust an Imperial," he murmured, but she could hear the joke in his voice.

Lily chuckled and rolled her eyes, which were nearly the same colour as his. "Ah, but you're an Imperial, Martin."

"Of course I can trust myself," he assured her, smiling. "I'm a priest. We're all trustworthy. Have fun with your old friend." Martin waved slightly and descended to the private rooms of the chapel.

Lily wound past the banister surrounding the stairs until she was near the other three. Oleta was nearest to her; she shuffled closer and said softly, "At least he's not a bringer of bad news."

Before she could ask what Oleta meant, Lily heard the soldier speak when he remarked on the troubles in the province of Morrowind. A grin split her face and she said, "Marius!"

The soldier turned and she immediately recognized the fair, friendly face of Marius Rotarius. After hugging her, he removed his helmet, freeing his close-cropped brown hair, and said, "It's about time I made it to Kvatch, hm?"

"Yes! I haven't seen you since last year when you were travelling from the Imperial City to Anvil. Where have you been all this time?" Lily asked, taking his arm and leading him to the closest pew to sit. She made herself comfortable on the hard wooden bench and tucked her loose copper hair behind her ears.

"Well, after I left Anvil I went north to Chorrol, then east to Cheydinhal, and was there for most of the time. Now I'm on my way to Anvil again to meet another Legionnaire, and together we're going to Bravil," Marius explained. "I'll be sure to stop in at the farm on my way to Anvil, to see how your father's doing with your sister's new man."

"They got married last year, after you left," Lily said, thinking about Marie and the Redguard she had met two years ago in Skingrad. "I don't think my father likes him for his work ethic, though he's a nice fellow. I've only met him twice, so I can't be sure, but I know he is nearly useless on the farm. He was born and raised in the city."

"Hm, that's not good. Marie should have picked a fellow who knows his way around a garden, because there is no way she is leaving your father alone on the farm, especially after you left."

Lily smiled somewhat and leaned her arm on the back of the bench. "I don't know if I can thank you enough for bringing me here," she mentioned. "It's been three years already; I never thought I would last this long as a priestess."

"It seems to be working well for you. Who is that young brunette priest who greeted me? I feel as though I know him somehow, but I can't figure out how."

"Oh, that's Brother Martin. He's been here far longer than I have, though I don't know for sure how long. I think he used to be in the Mages Guild," she added, shivering with delight at the mere thought. It was exciting, living in close quarters with a real mage who she could call a friend.

A frown formed on Marius' forehead. "No, I don't recognize the name Martin. Well, it hardly matters. How is your magic coming? You knew nearly nothing when I brought you here."

"Martin and Oleta have taught me a lot about Restoration, and even some Illusion and Conjuration. I went to the Mages Guild hall a few weeks ago, and their alchemist Sigrid kindly showed me around a mortar and pestle, and someone else showed me a bit about Alteration, even though I'm not in the guild. I still don't know much about Mysticism and Destruction, but that doesn't bother me."

Marius chuckled and lines around his mouth deepened as he smiled. "So you're well on your way to becoming a mage anyway. That Bercarius fellow had the right idea all those years ago."

Lily nodded and sighed softly. "I wish I knew where he was, so I can thank him properly. After all, this was all his idea. I can't believe how well it's worked so far. How long are you in Kvatch?"

"Not long, I'm afraid," said Marius, shaking his head. He shifted awkwardly to make sitting in armour more comfortable. "I'm only passing through on my way to Anvil. I wouldn't have stopped, but I remembered that you were at the chapel here."

"I won't keep you then, if you have to head off." Lily stood, and was followed by Marius. "It was so good to see you again. Say hello to my father and Marie for me."

"Of course." Marius hugged her again, and Lily leaned her forehead on the warm steel of his cuirass. It was awkward embracing a man in a complete outfit of metal, but at least the armour had been heated from the sunny day. It was the month of Last Seed, so it was always warm and bright outside, though Lily spent most of her time inside the great chapel.

"Don't make it another year before you visit again," Lily ordered after she let go of him.

Marius smiled as he slipped his helm back on. "I'll keep that in mind. I'll stop in again when I head out to Bravil," he promised, resting his hand on the hilt of the cruciform broadsword strapped to his hip. "And I'll tell you how things are looking back at the farm."

Lily waved absently as he turned and left the chapel. Bright sunlight shone happily in the brief moment the door was open, and when it shut the chapel was once again locked in cold grey. She tapped her fingers on the pew in front of her and was about to return to the altar of the Nine to continue praying, but Martin's soft voice stopped her.

"So who was it? I gather he left?"

She about-faced on her heel and saw him climbing the stairs from the basement, a bag in his hand. "Yes, he just did. He's a friend of my family's, Marius Rotarius. He said he recognized you somehow."

Martin's thick eyebrows drew together as he shouldered the old bag. "Did he? I don't recognize the name Marius Rotarius. Maybe he was a friend of my parents'. Would you care to join me on a little walk outside?" he offered, gesturing to the giant wooden doors leading out of the chapel. At Lily's curious frown, he explained, "I promised Weedum-Ja I would accept an order of books for her if they arrived while she was out of town, and I heard that she came back today."

"Sure, I'll go with you." Lily hopped up to his side and they wound past Oleta and Ilav to the front doors. "What books are they?"

"Uh, _Biography of the Wolf Queen_, _Purloined Shadows_, and _The Exodus_, I think. I didn't really inspect them." Martin shoved open one of the large doors and held it for Lily. Once she hurried through, he let go and they were standing in the bright, warm sunlight. All around Lily could hear birds singing cheerfully, and the citizens were wandering about, enjoying the delightful day.

"I love _Purloined Shadows_," Lily mentioned as they stepped off the stone slabs before the chapel entrance.

Martin chuckled and lifted a hand to shield his face from the sun. The rays made his hair shine and his azure eyes glitter. "Yes, I've seen you reading it often. Have an interest in Daedric Princes, do you?"

"That's what it seems like, huh? Either that, or thievery. Actually, the Daedric Princes are fairly interesting, but I don't worship them. After all, I'm a priestess of Akatosh."

Something about their conversation seemed to sober Martin up immediately. "The Princes are nothing to joke about. They may seem intriguing, but that curiosity is extremely dangerous."

Lily scowled and gave him an interested look, but she knew by the tone to his voice that he didn't want to talk about it. Had he once worshipped one Prince, or even all of them? It seemed like the strangest connection, but somehow she didn't find it hard to imagine.

"Brother Martin, Sister Lily!" The raspy voice of an Argonian called out to them, and they paused, halfway through the courtyard of the city. Lily peeped around Martin and saw Weedum-Ja striding toward them, rolling up the sleeves of her plain linen shirt. "I was hoping to find you soon."

"Weedum-Ja," Martin greeted, friendly as she approached. "How was Leyawiin?"

"Smelly and hot, as usual," the lizard woman retorted tiredly. "And things here have been well?"

"As usual. Your books came while you were out of town," Martin said, slipping the bag off his shoulder. "Everything is paid for and all ready to go."

Lily wasn't sure if Weedum-Ja smiled or not; it was hard to tell with the less-than-mobile faces of the Argonians. "Thank you, Brother Martin, but you didn't have to pay for it."

"Consider it a gift," he assured her, and he patted her scaled hand as she accepted the bag. "Please, I insist."

Weedum-Ja actually made an expression that could be considered a smile, and her tail wagged somewhat behind her. "Well, thank you so much, Brother Martin! I actually must be off now. Goodbye, Brother, Sister." The Argonian tucked the bag under one arm and turned back toward her house across the courtyard.

Lily grinned and hooked an arm around Martin's sturdy shoulders. "That was so sweet of you, Martin, paying for those books for her. I was actually wondering if she could afford them."

"I didn't want her to have to worry about it. It's a really beautiful day today. It's incredible what a world we live in," he said distractedly, setting his own arm around her shoulders so it's comfortable weight pressed through her thin grey robes. "I don't really want to go back inside. Care to go for a little stroll around the city before we have to head back to the chapel?"

"Oh, of course." Still stuck together with their arms around each other, they began to wander the town aimlessly. Men and women of all races explored Kvatch, enjoying the sunshine, and some vendors even hauled their wares outside to the sidewalks in hopes to encourage shopping at their stores. It was the most pleasant, idyllic scene Lily had ever witnessed, and the sight of it made her smile.

"Do you know what I think we should do?" Lily glanced up at him, and his mouth curled into a small smile in return. "I think we should ask Ilav for a few days of leave, and we should travel to the Imperial City. I've never been, and it would be so exciting."

"And you could finally see the Arcane University." Martin lightly squeezed her shoulder. "That is an incredible idea. I think Ilav and Oleta could run the chapel for a few days while we went to the City. After all, the primate and the healer are vital components of such a sanctuary."

As they wandered near the front gate of the city, the wide open doors gave them an exquisite view of the countryside before them. Lily gazed past the gate as a young woman on a large black horse galloped up the hill and into the town. She looked frightened and seemed urgent, and Martin seemed to notice it as well as Lily did.

"Excuse me," he called as she started to ride past.

She yanked on the reins and her horse whinnied in protest. "I can't talk long, I'm afraid. Here, take this." She snatched a scroll of parchment from the belt around her waist and thrust it down at the two. Lily reached up and took it gingerly, and the rider said, "It's the newest edition of the Black Horse Courier; the heirs have been killed, and the Emperor's been assassinated!" Without another word, she pulled the reins and led her horse further into the city, delivering newspapers as she went.

Lily gawked at the paper in her hand. It felt like a dead weight, dragging her down into despair. The Emperor was dead? No… how could this possibly be? Cyrodiil was without a ruler; that would send the citizens of his Empire into a panic. She already felt little flutters of fear rising in her.

"In these uncertain times…" Martin muttered. His hand slipped from her shoulder and he lightly touched her waist to turn her back toward the chapel. "We should tell Ilav and Oleta and find out what the Courier says about all this."

As they turned and began to head back for the chapel, Lily could hear the slow frenzy of apprehension begin to build up around the town as the deliverer of the Courier handed out broadsheets and briefly explained that Uriel Septim the Seventh had been killed, as had all his sons. There was nobody to claim the throne of the Empire. Chancellor Ocato and the Elder Council would be acting ruler until the time came to find another emperor, no doubt.

The day seemed suddenly darker now.

Lily followed Martin back into the chapel. Up ahead at the main altar, Ilav's white head was bowed and he was murmuring under his breath as he prayed to the Nine. Nearer, Oleta was using her services as a healer to a young Breton couple who were visiting from the Imperial City. The Redguard pressed her hands to a wound on the young man's arm and pale blue light emanated from her palms. The injury quickly sealed itself, and his wife uttered a sigh of relief.

"Thank you so much," she said softly, cradling a very pregnant belly with one hand. After they handed a generous amount of gold to Oleta, they shuffled past Lily and Martin, smiling happily.

"And how's the world outside?" Oleta asked, leaning on the banister of the stairs as she caught sight of the two priests. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on her dark forehead, from the heat of the day seeping through the cool stone walls. "I've been trapped in here all day. Granted, it's worth it," she added, smirking as she held up the little leather bag of money the Bretons had given her.

"The world outside is grim," said Martin.

Oleta frowned, so Lily held up the scroll of parchment. "The Courier arrived today. The Emperor is dead."

"What?" Ilav's voice came from the altar at the front of the church. The elderly man was gazing back at his comrades; his thick black brows were drawn into a scowl similar to Oleta's. "Emperor Septim? He has died?"

"According to the Black Horse Courier."

"How? What's the newspaper say?" Oleta demanded urgently as Ilav hobbled toward them, flattening his meagre supply of stark white hair.

Lily unfurled it with trembling fingers and held it before her. At the top in bold black letters, it read '_Assassination!_' and below was a story about the deaths. She cleared her throat and began to read the little print on the yellowed paper.

"'Elder Council named as regents. Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh is dead, at the age of eighty-seven, having ruled Tamriel for sixty-five years. He was killed by assassins unknown. At the same time, in separate locations, the late emperor's three sons and heirs—Crown Prince Geldall, fifty-six; Prince Enman, fifty-five; Prince Ebel, fifty-three—were slain by other assassins. An investigation into the identity and motives of the assassins is under way, but the Elder Council, Imperial Guard, and Blades Guard have forbidden the publication of reports and rumours concerning the event until further notice.'" Lily paused; her throat had run dry as she spoke. Everyone waited patiently for her to continue; she felt their eyes on her as she tried to finish the broadsheet. "It talks about the whole deal about getting a new heir for the throne, and then the problem with Jagar Tharn, and King Helseth and Queen Barenziah in Morrowind…

"'The Emperor's murder, and the murder of his three sons, is a terrible crime and a great tragedy for the Empire. Battlemage Ocato assures us that all the resources of the Elder Council, the Legions, the Guard, the Arcane University, and the Imperial Battle College are being employed to bring the assassins to justice. But, in the meantime, the greatest tribute we citizens can offer to the memory of our beloved Emperor is to go earnestly and diligently about our daily affairs, honouring the life of the great Empire he loved so much, and served so faithfully for so long.'"

An awkward silence filled the chapel after Lily finished speaking. The last sentence seemed to ring out around them, pulsing in their ears and flashing before their eyes. Taunting them that their ruler was dead, the ruler that everyone loved; the ruler who now had no surviving heirs, and whose death had plunged the Empire into darkness.

Lily didn't mean to break the silence when she did. "I suppose we can't go to the Imperial City, then."

The faint lines at the corners of Martin's eyes deepened when he smiled kindly. "Not at the moment, no."

This seemed to yank Ilav from the reverie. His dark eyes snapped open in shock as he stared at his priests. "The Imperial City? Nobody's going to the Imperial City right now. We have too much to do here!"

Oleta rested a hand on Ilav's to relax him, and it seemed to help. Lily had a suspicion that she had used a mild Charm spell. "Whatever Lily and Martin were planning, it doesn't matter right now. I think, in light of the circumstances, we should pray."

There was a silent agreement among the others, and they all huddled together. Lily rolled up the newspaper and tucked it into the belt of her robes before joining hands with Martin and Oleta and bowing her head. A moment of quiet filled the giant stone sanctuary before Oleta murmured, "To the Son, Arkay; to beautiful Dibella; to our keeper Julianos; and our heavenly Kynareth; to the Mother, Mara; to the compassionate Stendarr; to Talos the conqueror; to our peaceful Zenithar; and to our almighty Father, Akatosh: keep our mortal Emperor safe from harm as his soul rises from Nirn to reside in blessed Aetherius. Love him in death, Father, as you loved him in life."

Sensing the conclusion of the prayer, Lily, Martin and Ilav joined Oleta to say, "Amen."

"Now, more than ever," Ilav said softly as they all raised their heads and released each other's hands, "the people of Kvatch will need us. We can't let our own feelings stand in the way while they ask for guidance through trying times. Our Father Akatosh will guide our hands, hearts and minds until a new emperor is chosen. Be prepared for an early service tomorrow morning."

—

Ilav hadn't lied when he promised an early service. On regular mornings, people would start arriving at the chapel around six, and there weren't more than two or three praying in the pews. This day, however, it seemed every single citizen of Kvatch, guards and travellers included, all piled into the benches of the sanctuary by five-thirty.

Ilav was tireless as he preached about the blessings of Akatosh and the other Eight, and everyone paid rapt attention to every word he said. He seemed encouraged by their silent enthusiasm and continued the sermon elegantly, every so often throwing in a blessing to their fallen Emperor—this was something that the people seemed to appreciate. Even in a sleepy stupor, Lily noticed that their faces were drawn and exhausted from a night worrying about the future of their country and the other provinces of the Empire.

Unaccustomed to being active so early, Lily was swaying tiredly on her spot to Ilav's left, in front of the altar of the Nine. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open, and was jealous that Oleta wasn't needed so early; the healer was still in the private rooms below, probably sleeping, even though Ilav had awoken her.

Resisting the urge to rub her eyes or move too much at all, Lily glanced to the right. Ilav was wide awake, it seemed—maybe he had woken Oleta to have her cast a spell on him that would restore his energy—and to his right, Martin was gazing sleepily at the crowd before them.

This was inhumane, Lily thought, to force the priests awake at this ungodly hour. She and Martin didn't even have to do anything until Ilav was finished except on the rare days when one of them had to do the sermon. And during these important times, it would most certainly be the primate who preached, not the priests.

Lily couldn't be sure, but she thought, judging by the light streaming in through the stained glass windows, that it was nearing seven o'clock by the time Ilav was finished up in front of the altar. Not everybody left after it was all said and done, however. Guards had come and gone all throughout the service, and those that remained at the ending stood and vanished from the chapel. Men and women who ran businesses hurried off to prepare to open in an hour, but the rest remained to talk to each other and receive blessings. These were the times when Lily and Martin were bombarded by people.

"Sister Lily, do you know any more about the Emperor's assassination?" A small-statured Bosmer man frowned up at Lily in question and confusion.

Lily smiled grimly and tucked her hands into the sleeves of her grey robes. She desperately hoped that her exhaustion didn't show on her face, as she and the other priests needed to be pillars of strength for Kvatch. "I'm sorry, Athrelor, I don't. I only know what the Black Horse Courier broadsheet said," she admitted.

A Redguard woman nearby, Tavia, overheard and slunk up next to Lily and Athrelor. "But I heard you were the first person to get the Courier," she said, almost accusingly. Her dark eyes narrowed somewhat, but she didn't look too menacing with her wrinkled brown dress and short, dark, nappy hair mussed from sleep. "You and Brother Martin, Menien told me. You would think authority figures would be told more than us common folk."

Lily pressed her lips together. Since when were priests and priestesses authority figures? "Well, I'm sure the Count knows more than we do, if the Blades have even learned more about the assassins. And it's true that Brother Martin and I were the first to receive the Courier, but that doesn't mean we know any more than you. As soon as we learn more about what happened, we'll be sure to pass the information along." That was about the best she could promise, and it seemed to ease Tavia a bit.

"Emperors have been killed before," Athrelor mentioned as he pushed his shoulder-length brown hair away from his elven face. "The Elder Council will know what to do to get us through this."

Tavia snorted condescendingly and crossed her arms over her chest. "You really think so? What has the Elder Council done for us, really? With the Emperor gone, Chancellor Ocato will just make himself ruler in his place. It's all corrupt."

The Wood Elf looked personally hurt at her words. "Ocato would do no such thing! He and the Council _will _find a relative of the Emperor's to make heir to the throne, and will continue their regular jobs as per the norm."

"I never knew you were such a puppet to the government, Athrelor. You must be blind not to see the inner workings."

Lily knew it was time to step in and mediate, and fast. Tension was thickening between the Bosmer and the Redguard, while the rest of the chapel seemed to sigh in mourning. "Now isn't the time to argue about politics," she said, hoping she was choosing the right words. "Whether we like the government or not, we all need to get along and accept that one way or another we'll have another ruler, if he's a Septim or not."

"Well said," Tavia retorted, "if you side with an Elf."

A tall blonde Nord pushed through the crowd behind Tavia, smiling somewhat despite the lines on her face. "Can I interrupt?" she said, glancing from Athrelor to Lily, and finally giving Tavia a hard stare. "I wanted to speak to Sister Lily, if you don't mind."

The first genuine smile of the day formed on Lily's lips. "Hello, Sigrid."

"Sister Lily." The Mages Guild Evoker nodded in greeting. She shot Tavia a darker scowl, and the Redguard shied away. Athrelor offered Lily and Sigrid kind smiles before turning and leaving without being silently threatened to. The Nord turned back to Lily with her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't have any questions about the assassination."

"Thank the gods," Lily whispered.

Sigrid chuckled; it was the friendly, comfortable laugh of a Nord. "No, I just wanted to remind you that whenever you want to learn more about the arcane, I am more than happy to teach you. Alchemy, at least," she added as an afterthought. "There are some at the guild hall who don't think we should teach you anything if you aren't part of the guild, but we will still offer. No priestess should have to rely on her fellow priests alone to teach her the ways of magic. I have convinced our illusionist to teach you more, as well."

"Thank you, Sigrid. That's very generous."

"I must get back to the hall though. Farewell, Sister Lily." Sigrid turned and wove through the crowd, towering above the rest because of her northern heritage

Lily swept her gaze across the chapel. Martin was standing in the aisle with the Redguard Boldon and Menien Goneld, an aged Imperial. They were probably discussing the assassination. Nearer to the main altar, Ilav was speaking with a guard whose name Lily didn't know; the fellow apparently had an injury, and he wanted it tended to by a priest. Behind the guard were other citizens, all wishing to learn more about what happened. Nobody seemed to understand that the priests of Akatosh had nothing more to tell.

Ilav and Martin were busy. Oleta had emerged from the basement rooms and was starting the day healing and trying to answer questions. Satisfied or impatient citizens were leaving the church to continue on with their own lives. Lily wanted desperately to talk to Martin or Oleta, or her sister and father if she could, but her confidants were either preoccupied or too far away. With a sigh, she turned and warmly greeted a young Khajiiti man from out of town who looked lost.

It seemed another hour passed before Martin was finished with the people. Thirty more minutes ticked by; Ilav was now done trying to explain to some what had happened to their great province. Finally, at quarter past ten, the most recent batch of people wanting healing left, and Oleta was done for now. The church was strangely silent compared to the busy hum of the early morning.

Ilav immediately went up to the main altar to pray. Martin leaned tiredly on Lily's shoulder and said that he had never spoken so much in one sitting in his life than he did that morning, and he never wanted to do it again. Lily quietly agreed and was grateful for having him nearby again.

It was Oleta who had the greatest idea: until someone else needed healing or blessings or kind words, why not teach Lily more about Restoration and Conjuration, and maybe, if the priestess was lucky, Martin would indulge some knowledge about Destruction? Lily agreed with alacrity, and Martin smiled and said that he would help out, no matter how tired he was.

Well into the evening the two trained her, with only minor disturbances. At noon, they had to take a break for food, and they started up again immediately afterwards. At nearly three in the afternoon, someone came in to ask for advice that Martin readily gave. In the early evening they had to stop again to eat, and soon after Lily was able to reach into Oblivion with her mind, summon the soul of a scamp, injure it with a pitiful fireball, and tap into the magic of Aetherius to heal its meagre wounds. That was when they had to stop altogether; Ilav shouted at them that they were desecrating holy ground by having a scamp inside a church.

That night, there was a contentedness blooming in the chapel that Lily couldn't explain, but she simply knew it was there. They were all haggard and tired from the early morning and long day, but everyone, even Ilav, was happy with how things had gone. And Lily was extremely relieved at her growing skill with Magicka. After bidding goodnight to Martin, Oleta and Ilav, she fell asleep in her little stone cell perfectly pleased with her life.

Until she awoke in the dead of night to the bloodcurdling shrieks of the truly terrified.

Her eyes snapped open when the cries and explosions reached her ears. Immediately awake, Lily tried to leap up but her foot was wrapped up in her blankets and she ended up tumbling onto the hard stone floor. Cursing her clumsiness, she clambered to her feet and hurriedly pulled her grey robes over her head. As she was belting it up, her door burst open and Oleta rocketed inside, fixing her messy dark waves with one hand and trying to adjust the sleeve of her brown and green dress with the other.

"Oh, thank the gods you're awake!" the healer cried breathlessly. "Come, hurry!"

Lily nearly tripped over the hem of her robes as she sped from her room after the Redguard. "Oleta! What's happened!" she demanded, panicked, as they wound past the tables and chairs of the dining hall and hurried through the doors to the stairs that led up to the main chapel.

"I don't know! Martin and Ilav are already outside to see!" Oleta waited anxiously for Lily to catch up before shoving open one of the great front doors.

When Lily stopped at her side, her mind and body froze at the sight before her.

Fire rent the sky in two and thin orange tongues of electricity flicked the bloody clouds. A crimson darkness had settled on Kvatch and all around them men and women, man and mer and beast, all tried to flee to safety. Those who didn't succeed where brought, screaming, to their knees by women of fire, monsters of chipped ice, and giants of whirling rock. Grey-skinned creatures dressed only in blood red loincloths sent giant balls of fire at buildings; wood and cloth immediately gave in as the flame bit at it, and houses went up in a crackling blaze. Bodies littered the flagstones of Kvatch. Blood ran in rivers around stones and pooled in dips in the ground, and shone black in the vermillion night.

Lily was unable to tear her eyes from the scene. People she loved, people she knew; all being ripped apart by these creatures from hell.

What could have caused this?

"Martin! Ilav!" Oleta shouted beside her. Lily finally managed to blink and glanced over to see the two men hurrying toward them, horror and death in their eyes. "What happened?"

Ilav shook his head and mumbled a stammered negative; Martin merely stared sorrowfully at the chaos.

Lily watched him worriedly. There was something in his stunning blue eyes that seemed lost; despite being in the early stages of the middle-aged years, the charming innocence in him was wrenched away by these wretched beasts.

That was when she spotted the little hunched creature stalking up the stairs to the church behind him. And that was when she knew exactly where these monsters had come from.

"Martin, look out!" Lily screeched, seeing it pull its clawed hands together to summon a fireball.

Oleta shrieked and Ilav yelled something, though Lily didn't know what. Reacting more swiftly than she could comprehend, Martin whirled around and there was an electric boom. It screamed and fell dead at his feet, twitching as the remnants of the shock spell slipped away.

"Oblivion," Lily whispered at the sight of the dead scamp. "They were sent from Oblivion."

Someone touched her arm, but she didn't see who it was. A low groan cut through the air, and they all turned to see the great gates of Kvatch slowly pulling open. As soon as there was room enough, another flood of Daedra swarmed the city with mayhem and destruction in their wake.

And behind the horde of monsters was a behemoth portal of jagged black rock filled with white-hot fire.

Lily didn't recognize it, but the mere sight of it made her knees tremble and her heart freeze. Beside her, Martin whispered, "A Gate to Oblivion. May the gods help us all."


	3. Sanctuary

Someone stumbled up the stairs to the church and grabbed the front of Lily's robes. Blood seeped from wounds on her dark hands, and her short hair was matted to her skull; agony fogged her eyes.

"Tavia!" Lily exclaimed, gingerly grabbing the Redguard's shoulders. "We have to get her inside!"

As Lily eased the half-conscious woman into Oleta and Ilav's care, Martin murmured, "More are coming. They must know that the chapel is the only place to hide. Keep the side door open enough for people to get in. If a guard comes, we'll have him make sure no Daedra get inside the chapel."

Lily gazed up at him. "When," she corrected softly.

Martin finally stopped his staring contest with the Oblivion Gate; he turned and offered her a weak smile. "When a guard comes," he agreed, just as quietly. "Come on, we have to hide too. We're no use to anyone if we're dead." He held out a hand and she gratefully took it. Even facing legions of incredibly powerful Daedra he seemed to show no fear; his hand was steady and warm around hers, and the only indication that he was afraid was a slight dampness to his palm. It was no wonder that everyone was drawn to him when they met him; he was a natural leader.

Martin pulled her back into the Great Chapel of Akatosh and shut and bolted the front doors. One of the others, presumably Ilav because Oleta was crouched by the main altar healing Tavia, had already opened the side door a discreet amount, as to not draw the attention of the Daedra.

"We'll need food, water, blankets," Martin listed as he and Lily approached Ilav and Oleta. He still kept her hand firmly in his, and the touch comforted her. "And we have to stay optimistic so we don't frighten anyone."

Ilav's usually good-natured face was contorted with rage and terror and uncertainty. "What is the meaning of this? How has a—a Gate to Oblivion, you called it—how has it opened up here? The Daedra will kill us all before this night ends!"

"Please stay calm, Ilav," Lily begged. Martin gave her hand a little squeeze, and it helped. She bit her lip and used her free hand to brush her tangled orange waves back from her face. Her fingers were cold and clammy when they touched her forehead. They trembled, and not without reason. "Didn't you hear what Martin just said? We have to stay optimistic. We were there for the people just the other day when the Emperor was killed, and we have to be there for them now."

"Have you ever faced a Daedra before, Lily?" Ilav cried, burying his face in his hands. "No! You summon scamps in churches, not travel into the Planes of Oblivion to fight the minions of the Princes!"

"Neither do you!" Martin retorted hotly. Lily shut her eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat. He was losing his temper. She was quickly breaking down. Ilav was hysterical. Oleta seemed to be the only calm one of the four. "Whatever Plane these Daedra have come from, whatever Prince they are allied with—it all doesn't matter! What matters is that we do what we can to survive this. We will help the wounded and the untouched. We will house them here, and we will give them what they need until this nightmare ends or Imperial help arrives." Turning away from Ilav, Martin took both of Lily's hands in his and gave her a hard stare. "Lily, I need you to collect all the food, water and blankets you can find—and anything else that might help." He glanced back at the door, and she followed his gaze. More survivors had arrived, including a few of the Kvatch guards. Looking back at her, he whispered, "Hurry!" before letting go of her hands to go help.

Lily nodded once and hiked up the skirt of her robes so she didn't trip over it when she ran down the stairs to the private rooms. The door was still open from her hasty escape with Oleta. She rushed into her room and scooped up the tangled blanket from her bed. With it, she hurried back into the dining room and draped it over the table. She piled everything she could find on top of it: wine, brandy, ale, bread, cheese, water, venison, mutton, and more blankets from the rooms of the other priests. Once she grabbed as much as she could, she wrapped up the giant parcel with the corners of the blanket and heaved the makeshift sack over her back. Glass bottles clinked dangerously together, but she ignored it as she climbed back up the stairs to the chapel.

With Oleta's help, Lily set the blanket on the floor of the church and they began unloading things to make the survivors more comfortable. As Oleta found food for Tavia, Lily sat up on her knees and scanned the building. Ilav was going between praying to Akatosh for guidance, helping others who arrived, and mumbling insanities under his breath about Daedra taking over Tamriel. Martin was near the entrance of the old cathedral, speaking with a Redguard woman in the Kvatch guard whose name utterly escaped Lily at the moment.

"Savlian Matius is alive," Oleta murmured as she opened a jug of water. "He and some of the guard are defending the city from the Daedra coming from the Gate—or, they're trying to. And apparently some people were seen fleeing the city entirely, not just hiding in houses or coming here. People have run past the Gate to make it down the mountain safely." The Redguard sighed heavily and ran a hand over her hair. "I sure hope some patrolling Imperial Legionnaires see what's going on and send help. How wonderful would that be? This whole ordeal would be over in an instant."

Lily clenched her fists in the material of her robes. The shaking in her fingers was slowly going away as time passed. "I want to know why a portal supposedly leading to Oblivion opened up outside Kvatch," she said slowly. Time to regain her strength. Time to centre herself. This wasn't just a child's horrible nightmare. The fragile skin between Tamriel and Oblivion had been ripped, and the Daedra were taking full advantage of it. What they needed was time to think, but she doubted that would happen.

After all, it seemed Daedra weren't exactly patient.

"That would be a great thing to know," Oleta agreed, filling a ceramic cup with water. "But those atronachs aren't going to tell us. One of the Daedric Princes must be pretty irked to plague a quiet city like Kvatch."

Lily sighed heavily and tried to make herself more comfortable on the hard stone floor. She could always sit on one of the pews, but it wasn't exactly a big difference to go from solid rock to solid wood. Her gaze swept idly back to the doors of the chapel. "Martin sure took control quickly, didn't he?"

The healer's dark eyes flicked to the priest at the front of the church. "Yes, but that's Martin for you. You've only been here three years; you haven't seen many crises. Ilav may be the primate of Akatosh, but Martin is the leader when things go downhill. I mean…" Oleta snorted with laughter; it was such a welcome and pleasant sound. "Look at Ilav."

Lily reluctantly looked at the old Imperial and saw that he was staring anxiously at the doors as screams and shrieks erupted outside. Fear that she had been successfully ebbing rose up once more inside her, and Lily blurted, "If something happens, Oleta, I want you to know that I love you, and tell Martin and Ilav that I love them too."

The Redguard gave Lily a kind smile and reached for her hand. Lily set hers in it, and absently observed the stark differences of their skin colour. "I love you too, Lily, but nothing will happen. You can tell Martin and Ilav you love them yourself." She patted Lily's hand before letting go of it. "I only wish that soldier of yours was still here. He looked like a capable sort."

"I really wouldn't know," Lily replied distantly. A few more survivors were arriving. "I've only ever seen him ride a horse."

A soldier in full uniform suddenly burst into the chapel. "Brother Martin!" he called; his helmet was dented so it covered his eyes, and he clearly couldn't see that Martin was nearby. "Brother Martin, somebody has arrived at the gates; he's looking for you!"

"I'm not going out there. If he wants to see me, he can come to the chapel," the priest replied calmly. "Have the Daedra been slowed at all?"

"No. Well, maybe some. Savlian Matius and his soldiers are doing wonders outside at clearing the front of the city of Daedra." The soldier struggled to free himself of his dented helm, and finally managed after some considerable effort. He wiped a streak of blood off his forehead and blinked in confusion at Martin. "Oh, you're right here. I'll go talk to the fellow who wants to see you." With that, he dropped his useless helm, saluted, and vanished.

Lily looked back at Oleta. "I wonder who wants to see Martin."

The healer used a corner of one of the blankets to dab some blood of Tavia, who was huddled nearby, wounds fixed with magic. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

Time seemed to pass by slower than a snail. The church rumbled with each Daedric attack, and the growls of thunder were beginning to make themselves known. Lily doubted it, but she sure hoped thunder meant rain and maybe rain would put out the fiery women or the Gate. It was a foolish hope, but she couldn't help it.

How much time passed before something memorable happened again? It had to be nearing morning, yet the chapel was as dark as ever; no sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows of the gods.

"Oleta, do you know what those Daedra were?" Lily asked after some time. Tavia had fallen asleep beside them, and Oleta had healed the more serious injuries of newcomers, leaving minor wounds to Lily.

"Well, you know what the scamp is. The humanoid creatures made of fire and black armour: those are flame atronachs. The ice ones are frost atronachs, and the ones made of stone are storm atronachs, the most powerful of the three. The grey-skinned men are the extremely powerful xivilai. There were probably clannfear and daedroths too, but we just didn't see—"

Oleta immediately stopped and looked toward the front of the chapel. Lily had heard it too. The door had opened as someone else came inside. The redhead peered around the pews to see someone she had never seen before slinking into the church. He was clad in armour that was scratched and bloodstained from a fight, but he didn't appear injured or tired. There was a frown on his face, like he was a man on a mission.

The squirming in her gut told Lily this was the man who wanted the priest.

"Martin," she whispered, and noticed that he wasn't near the front of the church anymore. When had he moved? Well, she hadn't been paying much attention to him. She swept her gaze over the chapel and saw him handing out bread to some of the survivors across the room from Lily and Oleta. Helpful, as usual. Martin was a saint.

She watched in silence as the armoured man was pointed to the priest by the female Redguard soldier by the doors. The man strode purposefully past the survivors and pews until he came to the man he was looking for. Martin was all smiles and kind words as he greeted the stranger, as always.

They were too far away for Lily to eavesdrop, but she thought she caught the words 'Emperor Uriel Septim' and 'father' as their voices floated towards her. The stranger was cloaked in a mask of seriousness; Martin was frowning incredulously.

Finally after a short and probably confusing conversation, Martin said firmly, "Yes, I believe you and I will go with you, but I am not leaving until everyone is safe from the Daedra. Do what you can, and good luck."

A little smile cracked the stranger's stern façade. "I can handle a few Daedra. I'll return when they're taken care of, Brother Martin."

"Godspeed," Martin whispered as the knight pivoted to leave the chapel.

As soon as the man was gone, Lily leaped to her feet, unable to contain innate curiosity. Martin glanced at her sudden movement and a small smile curled the corner of his mouth. She quietly excused herself from Oleta and wound past the altar to get to the priest. "What was all that about?" she asked without preamble.

A slight frown decorated his forehead. "I'm not entirely sure, myself. He said he couldn't explain everything to me, but he has to take me to Weynon Priory outside Chorrol."

"Why? You're a priest, not a monk."

He chuckled softly. "And I have no plans on becoming a monk." His face became serious once more. "He… he said I am the son of the Emperor, and the only surviving heir to the throne."

Lily's jaw dropped before she could adjust her expression. She gawked at Martin very unbecomingly and felt as though he had cast a particularly strong paralysis spell on her. Her limbs seemed to be filled with stones.

Martin uttered a weak laugh as he watched her. "Yes, that's about how I felt when he told me."

A slow realization passed through Lily's arms and legs; it had an almost soothing and warming effect that battled away the paralysis. "Maybe… I've never seen the Emperor, but maybe that's why my friend Marius recognized you. You might look like him."

The priest ran a hand over his wavy brown hair. "Maybe. I need to sit." Very unceremoniously, he plopped onto the nearest pew, and Lily sat down more gracefully at his side. "Can you believe this?" he murmured, staring blindly at the altar in front of them. "Last week I was but a priest, praying to the gods and giving advice. Then I was the same, only our country had lost a leader and I had to console the people. Now… now I'm the illegitimate son to that same leader, and the last one alive who can run Tamriel." His blue eyes widened as he gazed at the altar. "Life is ridiculous."

Lily licked her dry lips. "Are you sure he was telling the truth?"

Martin finally blinked. "Yes. I'm sure of it. And if not… I'll find out when we go to Weynon Priory. I'm more than capable of handling myself."

Still, she didn't fully trust it. Wouldn't the Elder Council know of fourth son of the Emperor's? Of course, he was illegitimate, to be sure…

"I want to go with you," she announced before thinking it through.

Martin sighed heavily and rested a hand on her shoulder soothingly. She thought it odd that he was the one comforting her; she hadn't just been told that she was the long lost lovechild to the recently deceased ruler, after all. "I know, but you can't. If this turns out to be dangerous, I don't want you hurt." He pressed his fingers into the stiff muscles of her shoulder to relax her, and it worked. "You don't know how to use a sword or bow, and you can barely make a fireball."

Lily shut her eyes and lifted her legs onto the pew. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her. "But I'm good with Illusion. I could use a chameleon spell, or a full invisibility one. I could summon scamps and clannfear. I could heal you if you get hurt."

"And you won't be able to defend yourself should something happen to me. I can wield a sword and Destruction. But this won't be dangerous," he said firmly. Lily shifted so she could see his face. He was staring at the altar again, though his eyes seemed to see beyond what was before him. "This man wants to take me to Weynon Priory. Monks aren't going to attack me. And once I'm sure everything is safe, I'll tell you."

Lily wanted to close her eyes and sleep, but there was no chance of that with demons wreaking havoc in the once peaceful city just outside the thick stone walls of the chapel. "Promise me."

"I promise."

She sighed as she heard the door open and more refugees tumbled inside, crying for help. Lily sat up and looked back. Time to heal. With a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around Martin's neck and buried her face into his shoulder. His own arms immediately reciprocated the hug. "I love you, Martin," she mumbled into his robes. "Don't get yourself killed."

"I love you too, Lily, and I won't get killed. Do you want to heal or hand out food?"

She released him to look at the newcomers again. "I'll heal. I need practice anyways." Lily stood, but didn't leave him immediately. "Where… do you know where that man went after you sent him off?" she ventured curiously.

Martin rubbed the back of his hand over his eyelids. "I will not leave until the Daedra are gone. He is going into Oblivion."

—

Hours passed. The inside of the chapel was deathly silent. Outside, Daedra shrieked as they launched balls of fire at buildings, burning the city to Oblivion. The ground shook and trembled as stone fell from the bell tower high above, and as the arena across the city collapsed. Thank the gods—all of the civilians remaining alive seemed to be taken care of in the church or outside Kvatch, as no more entered the chapel after the last batch, a few hours after Lily and Martin had talked about his new predicament.

And what a predicament it was. Martin seemed to accept this new idea without much worry, but Lily wasn't as trusting as that. She hadn't spoken to the strange man, but she felt she didn't need to. He seemed like a shady character from what she saw. If somebody had just told her that Louis wasn't her father, the late Uriel Septim was, she probably would have a few more questions and concerns.

After their little conversation, Martin had retreated to one of the altars surrounding the curved wall of the chapel and stared blankly at the little stone object. Lily wanted to talk to him again, but Oleta quietly told her to keep to herself. Martin needed time to think.

Lily had hurriedly told Oleta what had happened after healing the refugees, and to her surprise, Oleta wasn't completely shocked.

"Yeah, I see the similarities, now that you mention it," she had mused, gazing at the priest when he wasn't looking. "Same nose, same eyes. You wouldn't notice unless you knew that they were related. Figures."

Finally, Ilav had showed up after hours of disappearance—Lily presumed he had been in the private rooms, or the undercroft—and he encouraged Oleta and Lily to get some sleep. He seemed blissfully unaware of the newest change; nobody had bothered to tell him of Martin's paternity yet.

Oleta agreed, but refused to go to the private rooms in case somebody needed her. Using one of the blankets that wasn't bloodied by her ministrations, she curled up on the floor beside Tavia. Ilav vanished to his cell again, leaving Martin and Lily the only ones awake.

The chapel was eerily silent. When nobody was paying attention to her, she climbed off the floor and rubbed her hands on her robes. Her palms were sweaty and the downy blonde hairs stood up on her arms as she approached the exit to the chapel. Daedra were roaring and shrieking outside, but she could hear the distinct sounds of human effort as well. Savlian Matius and the guard were fighting off the monsters. She wondered absently how the strange knight had fared if he had truly gone into the Oblivion Gate.

Lily ran her tongue over her dry lips and glanced around the church. Everyone was doing something, whether it was sleeping or pacing or staring at the stained glass gods above their respective altars. Without another moment of thought, she turned and slipped through the narrowly open side door.

The corpses of civilians and guards and Daedra littered the ground, blood soaked everything, and the city was in ruins. The crimson sky was still crackling with demonic electricity, but something seemed different. There were only a few monsters still prowling Kvatch. No guard was in sight.

A loud whistling distracted her from the bloodstained scene before her. It sounded as though all the wind in Nirn was shrieking towards one focal point very close by. Lily looked desperately around and her eyes rested on the horrible Gate outside the city walls. The flames inside the portal seemed to be trembling against something, and the noise increased until it was almost unbearable and made her head hurt. Then, without any warning, a lone figure leaped from the portal seconds before the jagged stone cracked and exploded. The Gate crumbled apart around the knight as he ran for safety. Dirt clung to sweat on him and his armour was even bloodier than before, but he was grinning triumphantly. From behind him, Savlian Matius and the rest of the Kvatch guard ran up, hooting with delight at his victory.

He had closed a Gate to Oblivion. Lily thought he deserved a statue.

The soldiers all poured into Kvatch to finish off what was left of the Daedra. It was an impressive sight, though it made her a little woozy to see their bloody swords easily slice through the limbs of the monsters. She was so immersed in watching the incredible scene that she didn't pay any attention to her other surroundings.

That was when cold, jagged metal curled around her neck and the breath caught in her throat.

"Don't move, Breton," a glacial, raspy voice said behind her.

Lily did as she was told out of pure fear. The thing holding her unsheathed something and pressed it just under her jaw before shuffling around her. It was a tall manlike creature wearing black and red armour, with horns protruding from its forehead. The name of this thing flowed slowly into her brain. She had read it before. It was a servant of a specific Daedric Prince…

"Dremora," she whispered, staring into the thing's demon eyes. "Mehrunes Dagon…"

Its eyes narrowed and it pressed its Daedric dagger deeper into her neck, hard enough to draw a droplet of blood. "Direct from his almighty Deadlands," the dremora snarled. If Lily could remember correctly, this was the weakest soldier in the Prince of Destruction's army; that made it a churl? Why was it that this petty knowledge came to her now of all times? She needed to remember Magicka to get her out of here.

Resistant to fire; that little tidbit of information showed up in her mind. Or was that just regular Daedra? Either way, it seemed logical that they were. Mehrunes Dagon's Deadlands were charred and fiery with lava.

But the only Destruction spells she had ever really practiced were fireballs.

"Where is Martin Septim?" the dremora demanded, bringing her out of her little trance.

"I don't know a Martin Septim," she lied pathetically. "Why would you care?"

"You lie! You have the scent of a Septim on you!" it growled. It tilted its weapon at her throat, forcing her head back so her neck was exposed to it. "I will kill Martin Septim, and the almighty Prince will make me a powerful valkynaz."

Suddenly it all pieced together for her. The Gate to the Deadlands had been opened by Mehrunes Dagon. The Emperor had been killed so a Daedric Prince could swoop in and take control of Tamriel. But before he could, all the descendants of the Septim bloodline had to be eliminated… including an illegitimate son who worked as a priest. But why had the rift opened between worlds? How had it happened?

At that moment, Lily trusted the strange knight with all her being. Martin would be safe if he left for Weynon Priory. It wasn't a trap.

Again, the dremora snapped, "Where is Martin Septim?"

Calling all her will and strength, Lily's mind reached into the realm of magic, Aetherius, and she pulled streaks of icy power to her fingertips. She felt the pads of her fingers prickle as the Magicka entered her body and swirled around excitedly.

The dagger bit deeper into her flesh, but she could barely feel it in her heart-pumping adrenaline. "Answer me, Breton!"

Lily was trembling all over, but she managed to look the dremora in the eyes. "Like hell I will," she whispered, and lightly touched the churl. The built-up magic flowing through her fingers exploded out as she gave it a chance to leave, and puffs of icy whiteness surrounded the dremora. It shrieked and staggered backwards, stunned and weakened, but not dead. She hopped back as it regained its composure and brandished its dagger, but she didn't have the strength for another Destruction spell. The frost had left her spent.

"Move!" someone shouted behind her, and something caught around her waist, yanking her back. Lily screeched in surprise, but knew her newest captor wasn't about to kill her. Beside her, the armour-clad stranger leaped forward, longsword in hand. The churl gawked at him and tried to ready itself for a fight, but the knight ran the blade straight through its body, shoving it backwards into the front door of the church. It pierced the wood with a thud and the dremora screamed as it pawed at the sword impaling its gut.

"Are you all right, Sister?" The soft voice of an Imperial distracted her from the horror, and she turned, shaking, to see that the one who had grabbed her was Savlian Matius himself.

"I-I'm…" Lily trailed off and turned to stare at the knight again. Once sure that the churl was dead, he yanked his sword from its resting place and shoved it into the scabbard at his hip.

He wiped his forehead as he approached Lily and the other guards around them. Looking expectantly at Savlian behind her, he asked, "Who is this?"

"Sister Lily, a priestess of Akatosh and one of Brother Martin's closest friends," Matius informed simply.

The stranger smiled warmly. It seemed all too normal in the chaos, and Lily's knees felt incredibly weaker from the stress of the night. "That was an impressive frost spell, Sister."

She blinked stupidly. Her legs trembled beneath her, and she absently lifted a hand to touch the blood under her chin, where the dremora had pricked her. "Th-Thank…" Her strength suddenly vanished, and she tumbled forward into the arms of the stranger. Some of the guards shouted anxiously, and she felt herself being carried somewhere, probably back into the chapel.

Lily's eyes fluttered open and she found the knight looking nervously at her. When had he scooped her up? Had she briefly lost consciousness?

"Are you all right, Sister?" he asked softly, kindly.

She lifted one leaden arm and touched his cheek with her hand. He was so warm against her cool fingers. "Make sure he's safe," she requested quietly. Her voice was trembling as much as her body was.

"I will," he said gravely.

Lily saw that they were back inside the church. "And don't wake up Ilav or Oleta. They need their sleep."

A tiny smile formed on his lips. "As you wish, Sister."

"Brother Martin!" called one of the guards, presumably Savlian. "We have a little gift for you."

Lily thought she heard Martin's voice take the gods' names in vain. She laughed a little. "Blasphemous," she mumbled.

"For the love of the gods, Lily! Why on earth would you go outside, where it's completely unsafe? I was wondering where you went when I saw that you weren't with Oleta anymore, but of course I foolishly assumed you had gone downstairs with Ilav. What were you thinking, going out there? You could have been killed!"

Laroque pressed her lids together in a fierce blink to clear her head. Then she looked up to see Martin standing in front of the knight, scowling down at her. She giggled the slightest bit; and the hysteria was kicking in. "Lighten up, Martin," she urged. "I used a frost spell on that dremora."

His jaw dropped considerably. "You fought a _dremora_?"

"It was only a churl," she reasoned. She was extremely grateful for the man holding her. If she had been standing on her own, she would have surely fallen already.

"Only a churl. Only a churl," he seethed. "I gather you helped her?" he said, glancing up at the stranger.

"She was paler than she is now, and without much energy. The demon would have killed her if we hadn't intervened when we did," he replied.

The corner of Martin's mouth twitched. "I cannot possibly tell you how grateful I am." He looked back down at Lily. "Don't you know how stupid that was? You are a hypocrite. You think it's okay for you to worry about me and demand that you accompany me to a place that is plainly safe, and yet you can waltz off to fight churls without anyone knowing where you are? Hypocrite, Lily. If you can worry, I can worry."

Lily looked over at the knight. "You can put me down now."

He frowned at her, but reluctantly did as he was told. Once she was back on her feet, he held onto her shoulder, just in case.

"I realize something now," she mentioned, holding up a scholarly finger. "Weynon Priory is perfectly safe for you to go to."

"I know that already," Martin muttered. "I tried to tell you that when you were bent on being my bodyguard." He exhaled sharply and pulled her into a tight hug. Lily didn't bother return it. She was too tired to do more than lean on him. "It would kill me if you died, Lily," he murmured. "Please be careful."

"We need to get into the castle," Savlian said, next to the knight. "We have to find the Count."

"I'll help," the stranger promised. "Brother, can you wait longer?"

Martin sighed and let go of Lily. As he looked around her to speak to the man, she absently touched a bloody spot on his robes made by her cut. "Of course, take as long as you need. With the Gate closed, the rest of the Daedra will be easily finished, and then it will be safe for everyone again."

The thuds of footsteps signalled that the stranger, and Savlian and his men were leaving to find the Count of Kvatch.

"I bled on you," Lily said flatly as soon as they were gone.

A frown flitted onto Martin's face. "You… oh, for the love of the gods, you fought a dremora and nearly got your throat slit."

"What do you expect? I'm no warrior, nor a mage." Lily smirked, feeling tendrils of strength flow back into her. "I'm no Martin. I'm just a priestess."

He clucked his tongue and gently touched the wound. "Hold still," he ordered. His hands glowed white-blue briefly and a pleasant warmth spread along the cut for a few fleeting seconds. "There. All better."

Lily rubbed her eyes and let him lead her to Oleta, who, despite Lily's demands, had been awoken by the noise. "Talk to me, Martin. Tell me what you're going to do when this is over."

He sat her down beside the healer and Tavia before kneeling beside her and forcing bread into her hands. "When he is finished with the Daedra and all is safe, we will head immediately for Weynon Priory," Martin murmured, as if he couldn't admit it to himself as well as her. "I presume I will be told more about what's happened, but after that… I don't know."

Lily swallowed a lump in her throat, and beside her, Oleta remained silent. "You won't come back," she breathed. The horrible realization squeezed her heart with the agonizing grip of a Prince.

"I can't imagine I'll be allowed to. If I'm the last Septim…"

"Martin," Oleta said warningly, but Lily put a hand on hers to stop her.

"The dremora," said Lily. "Dremora are the minions of Mehrunes Dagon."

"Yes," Martin confirmed.

Lily nodded and rubbed her eyes again. She was exhausted, but she had to continue, she had to stay awake at least until Martin left. Then she could sleep like the dead. "The churl, it told me that if it killed Martin Septim, then Dagon would make it a valkynaz. He wants you dead, Martin. You _have _to stay safe, where nobody can find you."

"Not even us," Oleta added quietly.

The words hung painfully around them. But it was true. Daedric Princes surely had ways of reading minds, and if somebody knew where Martin was, he could easily get the information from them. It seemed crucial that as little people as possible knew about Martin's true paternity and where he was going until after he lit the Dragonfires and was crowned emperor—for surely he would be forced into it, even if he didn't want to. But then, the entire Empire would probably know of another heir by tomorrow morning, Lily thought grimly. Gossip was a curse.

"And what about you?" Martin broke the silence between the three of them. "You know what I plan on doing when this is over. But you two? Kvatch has been destroyed. There really is no point in staying."

The thought hadn't crossed Lily's mind yet. She blinked in surprise and frowned at her hands in her lap. What would she do? She could move to a different city to continue being a priestess, but that wouldn't be an easy change. She was so used to how things were done around here, she loved the people—and she was a priestess of Akatosh, not Dibella or Zenithar or the rest. The transition would be torture. But she couldn't go back to the farm in the west. That lifestyle was gone from her now. She may have spent seventeen years as a farmhand, but the last three years of her life had made a deep impression on her.

"I'm staying," Oleta decided firmly. "I won't be the only refugee to remain behind. Kvatch can be rebuilt. And the people will need a healer."

The two pairs of eyes, blue and brown, then turned to Lily. She gnawed absently on her lip as she pondered it. There was no way she was staying behind, waiting for a city to be rebuilt. "I don't know," she admitted truthfully. "Maybe I'll go to the Imperial City. Maybe I'll explore Cyrodiil. Maybe I'll join another chapel. I don't know."

"You could finally join the Mages Guild," Oleta suggested half-heartedly. "I heard they're having trouble with necromancers. They could probably use all the help they can get."

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. There are so many options now. It's the strangest feeling."

"I feel it too," Oleta assured her. "It's almost as though we've been given freedom we've never asked for and never thought of, and it's been handed to us on a tainted, bloody platter. We could do anything now, and we've never considered it before because we've been so wrapped up in the daily life we were so content in. You ache for what you've lost, but a part of you wants to take what the chaos has given you. It's conflicting."

Lily swallowed a lump that was wedged in her throat. "Exactly."

"I envy you," Martin muttered, leaning against the pew behind him. "You get to rebuild a society and journey to the far reaches of a province. I have to become the ruler of a great Empire. A priest to an emperor… what an odd transition."

"You'll do fine. I'm sure of it." Lily shivered and wrapped a nearby blanket around her shoulders. "After all, you're a Septim." What an odd thing to say. It tasted strange on her tongue. "You're a descendant of Talos."

That made a grin split across Martin's face. "Apparently so. Hm, that might just make it worth it. I could become the newest mortal god," he said jokingly, and Lily felt a genuinely happy smile on her face; the first since this madness began. And on that cheerful note, she was determined to make her last few hours with Martin and Oleta count.


	4. To the harbour and out again

The knight, whose name Lily had yet to learn, returned perhaps an hour or two later, bloodstained, but undeniably pleased that his mission to collect the last Septim had gone well. There was an undertone of detached misery, however, and when Lily questioned him on it he revealed that the Count had been killed by Daedra long before he and Savlian Matius could rescue him.

He gave Martin time to collect his possessions before they had to leave Kvatch—or what was left of it. Oleta and Lily followed the priest to the private rooms and found their own things; there was no reason to leave them here for looters. Once everyone had everything and Ilav had been remembered—as everyone had forgotten about him in the hectic situation—the four of the chapel joined the knight just outside the church.

Lily tried not to look at the havoc that was done to the city when she stepped from the building. She didn't want to see the city she once loved in ruins. As they strode to the main gates she kept her eyes on the bundle of goods in her arms, determined to keep the vision of the peaceful, sunny—whole—Kvatch in her brain.

Finally they arrived at the bottom of the mountain Kvatch was perched upon. The day was overcast and unhappy and threatened rain, and the refugees seemed to all know it. They had built a few makeshift tents near the Gold Road and were helping each other treat their wounds. Lily could sense that Oleta wanted to help them, but the Redguard would wait until her close friend was gone before doing it.

Lily, Martin and Oleta waited in the centre of the camp of survivors as the knight went to collect two horses to take him and Martin to Weynon Priory in the north. Once again, Lily couldn't bring herself to look around. Who would she see? Who wouldn't she see? She didn't want to think of all the loved ones she had lost during the raid. At least her three closest friends in Kvatch remained alive—albeit Ilav was a little crazy, ranting about how Daedra were going to rule Tamriel.

And then the nameless knight returned all too soon, bearing two bay horses he seemed to conjure out of nowhere. Both were saddled and ready to go, and he quietly bagged Martin's belongings, giving the priest time to bid his farewells.

Lily fought back the sting of tears as she watched Martin and Oleta embrace warmly and murmur little 'I love yous' to each other. She rubbed her eyes fiercely and kept her gaze on the ground until it was her turn. She buried her face in Martin's shoulder when he hugged her and couldn't stop the tears from escaping into his robes.

"I'll write you," she mumbled wetly into his shoulder. "I don't care where you end up, or I end up. I'll write you."

"And tell me all about the places you've seen," he added softly, leaning his cheek on her head. "And I'll write you, no matter where you end up. Even if we can't always see each other, communication between friends can never be truly severed."

They simply stood in each other's arms for several long moments. Lily knew it was over when he murmured, "I love you, Lily."

She stifled a sob and returned with, "Yeah, well, I love you more." It surprised her at first, that she had said it. It was something that her father used to say to her when she was younger, and she never thought she'd carry on the tradition. A sudden longing to see Louis and Marie, and even Marie's city-born husband, rose up inside her, making her sorrow multiply a thousand fold.

Lily tried to stamp down her misery as she very reluctantly let go of Martin. He watched her for a short while before pressing a kiss to her forehead, as he had with Oleta. She sniffled pathetically and let out a choked sound as he turned away to mount the horse held by the knight. Once the two were settled on their horses, the end had come.

"When you're emperor," Oleta said with a trembling voice that she tried to conceal with poor humour, "me and Lily are coming to the White Gold Tower and we're having a royal sleepover."

"I'll make you my priestesses in the Temple of the One," he countered, grabbing up the reins of his horse. He seemed to sense that his escort was itching to leave, for he gave his friends a slight nod. "Until then."

Oleta called a farewell, but Lily shut her eyes as she couldn't bear to see him leave. It seemed a day of denial, didn't it? No, Kvatch was still standing. No, her friends weren't dead. No, Martin wasn't leaving. Next thing she knew, it would be, 'No, the Daedra of the Deadlands didn't overrun the city when a Gate to Oblivion was created during the night.'

She only opened her eyes once more when the _clip-clop _of hooves on the road died away. In the distance, she could see Martin and the armoured man riding away, heading for the road that would take them north to Weynon Priory.

"I can't believe he's gone," Oleta murmured after some time. "What are you going to do?"

"See my family," Lily decided after a short moment of thought. "And after that… I'm going to the Imperial City, and Anvil, and Bruma, and Cheydinhal, and Leyawiin, and Bravil, and if I can bear it, Chorrol. I'm going to be a nomad, I guess."

"You had better write to me too, young lady," Oleta ordered in a very motherly tone.

Lily smiled at the Redguard's light-heartedness. "Of course I will. That's a given."

"Good." Oleta looked contented with Lily's answer. "Because, you know, Martin isn't the only one who wants to hear more about the world. And hey, maybe he'll still be at Weynon Priory when you go to Chorrol."

The redhead allowed herself a small chuckle. "Maybe, but I doubt it. Hopefully he'll be all settled down at the Imperial Palace by then."

Oleta inhaled deeply and looked around. "Do you smell it? Victory. We have been pushed out of our city, but we won. You were looking down when we left, so you didn't see: the Gate has been utterly destroyed. All that remains is chunks of rock."

"I saw it happen," Lily murmured, but she didn't think Oleta heard her.

"That stranger sure knows his work, if he managed to destroy an Oblivion Gate from the inside. Without him, we would've all died. He's the hero of Kvatch, no doubt." Oleta shook her head as if clearing it. "How are you going to get home?"

Lily started to shrug, but suddenly remembered something. "My friend Marius was heading back this way before he had to go to Bravil. He won't mind taking me to the farm."

"The soldier? Hm, could've used him last night."

Lily arched a brow at her friend. "You seem awfully calm and collected considering what just happened."

"So you do."

Laroque and Oleta had a brief staring contest before Lily gave in with a shrug and a nod. "Shock," she decided simply. "We'll be messes later."

Oleta sighed softly and motioned to the tearstains on her face, on Lily's. "We simply know that we have to move on. Why dwell on the past?"

"You're a saint, Oleta," Lily remarked, rubbing her nose absently. "We should heal everybody up before any wounds get too dirty to fix. Hopefully that will keep the mourning at bay long enough."

And it did. Nearly six hours passed before every single refugee had every single ailment cured by the healer and the priestess—Ilav, of course, was still prattling about Daedra to anyone who would listen. By the time night fell, Lily and Oleta were exhausted and forced by Sigrid—who Lily had been overjoyed to see had survived—to sit by a fire and take some food and drink.

At the mention of food, Lily realized she hadn't eaten since the night before, at dinner. Martin may have forced bread into her hands during the wait inside the chapel, but she hadn't touched a crumb of it. Her stomach growled loudly, and the Mages Guild alchemist smiled somewhat. Like the others, she was worn and lined from the past few days. Lily and Oleta seemed to be the only ones in that strange state of shock where no pain or much more of any emotion reached them. But then, they had seen so much more bloodshed and death than the rest.

Sigrid and a few other strong ones handed out food to those too weak, mentally and physically, to help out. Lily felt someone wrap a blanket around her shoulders as the Nord alchemist gave her what looked to be soup, and was infinitely grateful for both. She hadn't even realized she'd been shivering. But she wasn't physically cold; the night was warm despite the cloudy day, presumably because of the fires that still crackled away in Kvatch. Maybe it was the shock finally setting in.

"I wonder who's heard about this," Sigrid said as she sat on a log opposite Lily. The fire between them was an eerie reminder of what had happened, and the hair stood up on the back of Lily's neck. "The Imperial Legion, for sure. A few of them showed up to help out last night. News has already probably spread to Leyawiin and Cheydinhal."

"It would be hard to keep something like this secret," Athrelor agreed. Lily had been silently delighted to see the Bosmer had survived as well. "An entire city has been reduced to rubble by monsters. The Courier will probably have a field day."

"Maybe not," Oleta joined in. "Maybe the Elder Council will keep it quiet from the press, and the rest of the province will have to rely on rumour alone."

Lily tuned out all this upsetting talk. Despite her hunger, the bowl of soup lay untouched on her lap. It felt as though the ghosts of Kvatch were surrounding them, probing them with icy tendrils right where it hurt. She wanted desperately to get out.

"Sister Lily," a low feminine voice said at Lily's right. The Breton glanced up, and smiled somewhat when she saw Weedum-Ja standing beside her.

"Hello. Can I help you with something?"

The Argonian shook her head. "There is someone looking for you, Sister. Shall I point him your way?"

Lily leaped to her feet, startling her companions. "Yes!" she cried immediately, knowing it was Marius Rotarius searching for her. The priestess hastily set down the bowl of soup before it spilled, and by the time she had, Weedum-Ja had returned with the Legionnaire. Lily threw herself into his arms the moment she saw him, cold steel armour and all.

"Oh, thank the gods you're all right," Marius muttered as he embraced her in return. "I was at your father's house when it happened. He could do little more than sit there, and Marie was very nearly physically ill. I don't think that husband of hers really understood what was wrong with them."

"He's a fool. She's a fool for marrying him." Lily stepped back from him and saw that he had been as worried as her family. He was paler than normal, and lines on his face were more pronounced than she remembered. "Can you take me back to the farm before you go to Bravil? I know it's backtracking, but I don't have a horse and I can't walk that far…"

"You know I will. I'll have him meet me in Skingrad," he said, jerking his head at the Legionnaire sitting on a horse further down the road. "Is that it, then? The adventure of being a priestess is over, and you're going back to the farm?"

Lily shut her eyes and shuddered as a wave of grief crashed over her. "No. I just need to see them. I'm going to see Cyrodiil. I've only ever been on a farm, in a church, or in an inn in Skingrad and Anvil. What kind of life is that? I'm going to barter me a horse, get some clothes and food and what money I have, and just go where my feet take me. I'll keep in touch," she promised, seeing his frown deepen. Goodness, she was going to be sending so many letters once she got out into the world. Martin, Oleta, Marius… Louis and Marie as well, of course. "How long are you going to be in Bravil?"

"Not long, I can imagine. If I'm lucky, I'll be reassigned to the Imperial City within a year. When do you want to leave?"

"Now," she replied without hesitation. She wanted to rid herself of those prying ghosts before they made her crazy. "All my things are in one place."

Marius nodded stiffly. "Say your goodbyes." With that, he turned and headed back for his horse.

Lily pivoted and quickly enveloped Oleta in a hug. "This will be short and sweet," she muttered. "No tears. I'll come back to see you."

Oleta returned the gesture and sighed. "I know; you aren't Martin. Not that I'm angry with him for it," she added hastily as Lily frowned at her. "But I know he can't visit, even if he wants to. Be careful out there."

Lily grinned as mischievously as she could. "Heh, I feel like I could take on Mehrunes Dagon himself after fighting that dremora."

"The dremora _churl_," Oleta said, rolling her eyes. "And all you did was use a touch spell."

"Which I'll do again, repeatedly, on any bandits I might meet on the roads. I'll visit soon," Lily promised. "Love you."

"You too."

Lily could feel Oleta's eyes on her back as she gathered her things and strode across the sad little camp, where Marius and the other Legionnaire were waiting on their horses. She waited patiently as Marius carefully packed her things into one of the already bulging saddlebags, and then he hoisted her onto the horse and quickly followed behind her.

Lily didn't look back as they turned back to the Gold Road, where the nameless Legionnaire went east to Skingrad, and Marius and Lily went west to the farm. As they rode silently back to the home she had grown up in, growing farther and farther away from her friends and the city she adored, she could feel her heart breaking.

—

"She's tired, Louis. After all that she's been through, you have to give her time to heal."

"I know, Marius, but she's my daughter, and I haven't seen her in a year, it seems. I want to know…"

"She's fine," the soldier assured the farmer. "She's probably traumatized by what she saw and went through, but she will be all right. No wounds other than a cut on her neck, and no severe anguish from what I could see. She has a tough soul."

There was some shuffling outside the door, and Lily glanced over her old copy of _Purloined Shadows_, which she had been determined to save when she left the chapel; as it was about a Daedric Prince, she thought it unwise to let the others see she had it, though Martin had anyways, so she always kept it hidden.

"Do you know what happened?" Louis asked. There was a curious, hardened tone to his voice. In his growing age and difficult times, he seemed to be less like the cheerful, active man he had been in years past, unless strangers were in the house.

"Elaborate. What happened to her? No. I know she lost a friend, for she not once spoke his name, but that's it. What happened to Kvatch? Also no. I would have had to ask her, and I couldn't do that while she's like this." Marius' voice held a note of finality that intimidated even Lily, and she was in a completely separate room from them. Then again, he was an Imperial guard. She supposed he had to be able to scare people sometimes.

There was a tense silence in the hallway outside her room, and Lily briefly forgot about her book in her determination to eavesdrop. After some time, Louis said, "Do you know what will happen? She isn't going to stay here, is she?" The depression was thick in his softly accented Breton voice.

A heavy sigh came from the Imperial. "No, and she won't remain long, I'd wager. Long enough for superficial wounds to heal, and then she'll be off to let the deeper ones do the same."

"Do you know where?"

"She seemed determined to go to Anvil on the ride here." Lily recognized something she couldn't name in the way the guard said 'ride.' He needed to set off on his own journey, but Louis or Lily, maybe both or maybe neither, was keeping him here.

Louis noticed it as well. "Of course. It was good to see you again, Marius. You have to return the next time you're in the Gold Coast."

"I will." Another moment of silence; then thudding footsteps as the guard strode away. Lily was a little hurt he hadn't said goodbye to her, but it passed quickly. She had already shed her tears for those she had loved and lost, and no true pain rose up in her now.

Not long after Marius left, a knock came at her door. Flicking her eyes back to the little words of her book, she mumbling something of an affirmative, and the door creaked open.

"Lily? Oh, you're awake."

She set the book down on her lap and smiled at her father. His auburn hair was thinning and silver at the temples, and lines cut deep around his mouth and eyes. "Morning, Papa."

Louis shuffled almost uncomfortably, and she knew it was because he had heard her crying in the night as soon as she had been deposited in her old room. "I—I want you to talk to me when you feel ready, Lily," he murmured, keeping his eyes on the floor. "I know it must be difficult, but nobody outside the city knows what really happened."

"I won't be here long enough to be ready, Papa."

He nodded rather dejectedly. "You heard us then. Of course you did. You're headed for Anvil as soon as possible?" The pale blue eyes roved up to her and lingered on her face.

"I'll…" Lily hesitated, and Louis looked back at the floor. She clenched her hands in the fabric of the quilt covering her. "I'll try to tell you something. Not about what really happened. That's too painful."

Louis nodded again and carefully sat down at the foot of her bed. "Then…" He pondered it for a moment before mentioning timidly, "Marius said you lost a friend."

She had a feeling he would have wondered about it. It seemed like the most approachable subject, when it really wasn't. She almost would've preferred discussing the churl that tried to slit her throat. Lily rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist, though tears hadn't even formed. "You remember Martin. He didn't die," she said quickly, just as her father began to jump to conclusions. "He had to leave, and I think I'll never see him again."

Louis nodded slowly, and she was becoming irritated that it was practically the only thing he did. "You loved him," he stated simply.

"Still do. Platonically."

He clearly didn't believe her, but that was his problem, not hers. "When are you planning on leaving?"

It seemed people had been asking her that a lot lately. "As soon as I can. Marius was right; the only way I'll heal is if I leave. I need to get away from places that hold memories. That means here as well as Kvatch."

"Very well." While he wasn't pleased with this decision, Lily was glad he wasn't fighting her on it. "What do you need?"

"A horse, food and some money. I have clothes and some gold that will last me a while, but it won't be enough."

Louis nodded yet again. "All right. You can take the old mare to Anvil with some goods, and trade them in for a decent horse. We have food enough, and I'll find some money for you."

"Today," Lily said as he stood and was about to leave. Louis glanced back at her and misery clouded his eyes. "I'm leaving today. I want to reach Anvil by nightfall."

"Very well," he said again, and shut the door as he left the room.

Lily climbed slowly from the bed. Her arms and limbs, her bones and muscles—they all ached from anguish. Weeping in the night had taken a lot out of her, but it wouldn't slow her down. She peeled off the dirty priests' robes and tossed them on her bed. Ignoring the need to bathe, she went to her dresser and found a simple green dress. She pulled it on, stepped back into her shoulders and absently brushed out her hair with her fingers.

Okay. Time to think and get ready to go to Anvil.

A small trill of delight fluttered around inside her cracked heart at the thought of going to the waterside city. The only thing standing in her way was yet another painful goodbye, this time with her father and sister. Oh, and that Redguard from Skingrad.

She hated goodbyes. She was done with them.

Lily found a suitable leather bag underneath her bed and began to search for clothes. Dresses, skirts, blouses, and even the occasional pair of breeches and men's shirts. She folded them all neatly into the bag, with all the other clothes she would need. A brush, her robes—she couldn't bear to part with them, after all—more shoes, stockings, and certainly not least, _Purloined Shadows_, of course. Food, money and sleeping supplies could go into the saddlebags. Who knew if she wouldn't be able to find and inn and had to sleep outside.

She slung the strap of the bag over her shoulder and carefully shook out her blankets before folding them over one arm, followed by a solitary pillow. Her gaze swept over the room, but she couldn't think of anything else she would need, so she turned and left.

Marie was sitting in front of the hearth when Lily stepped down the stairs. The twenty-three year old looked exhausted and extremely pale, and there was a fine glisten of sweat on her face.

Lily's mouth twisted into a sympathetic smile. "More vomiting?" she guessed as she dropped her things on the table and sidled over to her sister.

The woman rested a hand on the little bump under her dress. "I hate being pregnant."

"Shouldn't have had sex. I'm going to Anvil soon."

"I know."

There was a small sort of understanding shared between them, the kind that only sisters have. Marie smiled the slightest and gave a little nod, so her long auburn waves slid off her shoulder.

"Papa's terrified," Marie mentioned as she absently stroked the baby bulge. "I could tell when he came down from your room. He doesn't think you can defend yourself on your own."

Lily grunted noncommittally. "I'll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell Papa. Not now, at least."

"All right."

"I fought a dremora."

If at all possible, her sister's face went even more ashen. "Holy… is that where…?" Marie gestured vaguely to the healed cut on Lily's neck.

"Mm-hm. I didn't kill it, but I staggered it and surprised it, at least. Proof that I'm at least getting somewhere by practicing with Magicka."

Marie sighed and rested a hand on Lily's arm. Yet another sisterly jolt went through them. Marie was sorry for how she treated Lily's wish to become a mage in their youth, and this was her silent way of telling her that. Lily curled her other hand around Marie's as acceptance.

"Papa said you're in love." There was a tone of questioning, but Marie wouldn't press it if Lily didn't want her to.

The copper-haired girl smirked and said, "Oh yes. With Akatosh." Marie grinned and they collapsed into a fit of sisterly giggles. But behind the veil of happiness, Lily knew it was one of the last times for such a thing.

"Having fun, are you?" They both turned to see Louis returning to the house with a bag of food and a little pouch of money in his hands. "Everything is ready, Lily. Do you want me to get the horse ready?"

"Yes, Papa." Lily stood and grabbed her things, following him out of the house. It was deceptively sunny, though the sky still held the gloom of the day before. The farm's old grey mare was standing on the path cutting through the front garden, chewing absently on some grass as she watched her people approach. Lily watched her father with the same blankness as he stuffed the saddlebags with the food and sleeping supplies, and then strapped her extra bag behind the saddle.

"Take care of this," he said, handing her the little purse. "You'll regret wearing a dress," he mentioned, as if observing the weather.

Lily nodded, already coming to this herself. "I'll be right back." She sprinted into the house and quickly changed into long brown trousers and a simple white tunic. She returned momentarily and tucked the money into a pocket of the pants. "All right, I think I'm ready. I'll write to you," she said dully. She was tiring of repeating that to everyone, and tiring of saying goodbye and I love you. After this, she vowed, she wouldn't do it anymore. It always reopened a painful wound in her heart.

With that, she climbed onto the horse and called farewells to her family before pulling on the reins and leading the mare to the western end of the Gold Road, where Anvil was waiting.

—

"And there's my favourite customer! Where have you been exploring today?"

Lily plopped wearily into a chair in front of Wilbur, the proprietor of the Count's Arms Inn. "The coast," she replied tiredly. "Met some particularly nasty mud crabs. Found a cave near the castle."

"Don't go near that cave," the old Redguard warned as he cleaned some dishes from the day. "It's haunted."

She was growing used to the superstitions of the people of Anvil after having lived there for a month, but she still allowed herself an unbelieving smile. Wilbur clucked his tongue and put a few plates away. "You don't believe me? Fine. But it's true. Your head should be open to new ideas, especially those involving spirits, if you were a priestess."

"Speaking of spirits," Lily said, changing the subject as she reached into her pocket and slipped a few gold coins onto the counter. "Those nasty mud crabs I mentioned tackled me and I got a few nasty cuts to go along with the experience. Ale."

Wilbur arched a brow at her as he slid the septims into his hand and grabbed a tankard for her. "Hm, must've been bad if you're picking ale over brandy."

Lily adopted the same expression as him as he filled the thick glass cup. "I want to get good and drunk, and I don't want to feel refined while doing it."

This time the Redguard chuckled. "A Breton doesn't want to feel refined? Goodness, these nasty mud crabs really must've been nasty."

"I have bruises where one should never have bruises," she said darkly.

"Couldn't you just heal? You said yourself that you practice Magicka."

Lily lifted a shoulder and grabbed the tankard with both hands. She held it up to her mouth and downed half of the liquid inside in one go, wincing as it burned her throat on the way down. She almost dropped the cup when she set it back on the table, and wiped her mouth distractedly. "Yes, but I'm going to wait. Tomorrow. When I have a hangover and I'll have learned my lesson."

"To not get drunk?"

"To not let mud crabs tackle me."

_Oh Akatosh_, Lily thought to herself as she swallowed a few more gulps of the ale, _if only your priests could see me now_. So uncouth after a month at the coast. It was liberating.

As she silently drank at the bar, a few more people mulled around inside, talking about nothing or simply sitting alone. Despite having been here for so long, she didn't feel a real connection to anyone in Anvil yet, save for Wilbur, the one who so graciously gave her a decent price for a room in the inn. The city wasn't as interesting as she had hoped, though there seemed to be a lot of haunting and conspiracy. That cave she had seen and Benirus Manor were both haunted, apparently, and the gods only knew where the Countess' husband had disappeared to all those years ago. No, Lily was more bent on exploring the countryside around Anvil, though she was still working up the nerve to go to the port where the sailors and ruffians stalked the boardwalks.

She quickly finished her drink and waved at Wilbur to get her more. Her vision was already starting to swim and she knew she'd be falling off her seat in no time flat, but it didn't bother her. The pain from being assaulted by mud crabs was quickly fading.

She had arrived at the city a month prior without anyone causing her trouble on the road. After an incredible amount of persuading and arguing, she managed to trade the old grey mare and some other goods to the owner of the Horse Whisperer Stables in return for a young, healthy white horse. That had been her defining moment since coming here.

Well, maybe not. Every day since her arrival, she ventured into the wilderness to practice magic. It didn't matter whether it was Destruction, Illusion, Conjuration, Alteration, Mysticism, or Restoration. She practiced with each, and now she was able to send a mud crab to its death with two well-trained fireballs. When the first time this happened, she eagerly wrote to Oleta about her newfound success, and the healer wrote back to say she was extremely proud.

Just as she hadn't found the courage to go to the port, she hadn't found the courage to write to Martin. Everyone else had already received one letter, as she silently vowed to send one a month. She knew her time was running out this month, and he was probably gone from Weynon Priory, but a letter would find him no matter where he was.

The letters were the only things binding her to the tragedy of Kvatch. She rarely thought about it as she started her new life, doing things she never could have done as a priestess. The first time she had gotten drunk, for example, while a complete accident, had marked a turning point in her life. She read her books about Daedra and dark things in public without fear of being reprimanded by a primate. She had been tempted by a shady out-of-town beggar to buy skooma for the sheer thrill of it. She hadn't, of course, but the mere point of the fact: it was there. She could have.

Lily sipped more leisurely at the now-filled cup. She gazed sleepily at the people in the inn, glad that nobody minded a people-watcher. The harbourmaster, Newheim the Portly, was at a table across the room, drinking with Didier Aumilie. Arvena Thelas, the Dunmer rat lady, was by the hearth with a book. The retired captain S'shani was in a corner near the fire with a dark Imperial Lily didn't recognize from the city.

She frowned as she watched the Khajiit and the Imperial men comfortably discuss ships. S'shani lived in the Count's Arms with Didier the Breton, so she knew them fairly well, but this Imperial was new. Maybe he lived out by the docks most of the time. It was curious.

When she was finishing up with the tankard, Wilbur gingerly took it from her unresisting fingers. "I think you've had enough, Lily," he said gently, as if speaking to a child. Lily giggled a little at the thought of a child getting drunk. The Redguard seemed to roll his eyes. "Great. You don't take much to get drunk, do you?"

Lily grinned at him and reached over the counter to poke his chest. "Nope. Do you remember the first time? I had like… half a cup."

Wilbur chuckled softly. "Yeah, I remember. You should go upstairs soon."

She felt breath move her hair, and she turned to see the dark Imperial standing behind her with a smirk on his handsome face. Or was he handsome? Maybe it was the ale.

"I'll take her up if she can't make it, Wilbur."

Lily looked back at the barman to see him frowning, but he seemed relieved anyways. "Thanks, Jake."

"Hello, Jake!" she said cheerfully. The stubble on his face looked fun, she noted. If she touched it, it would probably feel so interesting. The men at the chapel always remained clean-shaven. Somehow she resisted, though. "I'm L-Lil… Lily!"

The stranger hooked an arm around her waist and she smiled stupidly in return. "Nice to meet you, Lil. Which room is yours? I'm afraid I've never really been to the Count's Arms before."

His voice was smooth as silk. Lily suddenly imagined this handsome, mysterious man belching silken rainbow ribbons and she snorted with laughter. She rubbed her hands over her face and noticed that he was still waiting patiently for her to answer. "Um… upstairs… directly across from the stairs?" A scowl flew over her brow and she leaned over the counter to whisper to Wilbur, "Is that right?"

"Yes, Lily."

Lily turned back to the Imperial and nodded once. "That was right."

The man's thick brown brows arched, and he slipped a hand on her hip to lead her to the stairs. Lily did as he silently told her to, and floated toward the stairs as if she was in a dreamlike state. Everything seemed to be coated in golden clouds as she clomped ungracefully up the steps to her room, with the strange Imperial just behind her.

When she nearly tripped over a loose floorboard and stumbled into her room, she was surprised to see him follow her. She must have shown her confusion on her face, for he sent her a sweet smile and said softly, "You are incredibly beautiful, you know."

Lily felt her cheeks grow warm in embarrassment. "Aw, thanks. You're not bad yourself, Jake." She peered innocently up at him as he smirked at her. "Is that short for Jacob…?" Her voice trailed off as she said the name, and she stared blankly at him. "Jacob," she said flatly. "Jacob Bercarius."

Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin, roguish stubble, clothes that smelled of travel…

An incredulous frown sprang onto his features. "Yeah. How'd you know?" The silkiness was gone and it was just the voice of another Imperial.

Lily let out a high shriek before she even thought it through. He flinched and backed up, but she couldn't find the will to move. "Jacob Bercarius, the same Jacob Bercarius who came to the Laroque farm three years ago and convinced a silly Breton girl to join the chapel in Kvatch because she couldn't join the Mages Guild?" she stammered in one breath.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped to the floor. He swore under his breath, but she couldn't sense anything beyond coming to that bizarre realization. The golden haze was gone. Now she was just painfully aware that she had too much to drink and he had known it. And he had planned on fully taking advantage of it.

She hated people.

Oh, man, she would feel this one in the morning.

"I wanted to thank you!" she screeched, suddenly regaining a clumsy control of her movement and vocal chords. "I joined the goddamn chapel in Kvatch! I joined and had the best three years of my life, and nearly burned to death because of it!" Her tongue was uncomfortably thick in her mouth, and she still tasted the bitter alcohol. He was simply staring at her, seemingly unable to move. "And you asshole, you were going to _rape _me!" Swearing felt good. It was another freedom she relished. She shoved awkwardly past him and did trip on the floorboard this time. With a squawk, Lily crashed into the wall opposite. She was somehow acutely aware that the main floor of the inn was awkwardly silent.

"I wasn't going to—"

"Don't—don't lie! You were all sweet and nice and, and…" Lily moaned and grabbed her hand. The wrist was throbbing. It had been doing fine until she hit the wall, as it had been mildly injured in her fight with the mud crabs that afternoon. Trembling all over, she turned to see him still standing in the doorway of the room with a curious expression on his face. It made her even angrier, seeing that look. "Go to hell, Jacob Bercarius!" She turned and stumbled down the stairs, trying to be careful where she put her feet. When she made it to the taproom, everyone was gawking at her in stunned silence. Lily ignored her pained wrist for a moment to see Wilbur inching carefully toward her.

"Wilbur," she groaned. "I feel sick." And on that note, she passed out on the floor of the Count's Arms Inn.

When she woke up in the bed in her rented room, she wasn't surprised to find that it felt like her skull was cracking in two. Her wounds from the previous day were snarling angrily at her for what she had done.

"Oh. How are you feeling?"

Lily cracked open one bloodshot blue eye to see Wilbur seated on a chair in the corner of the room, watching her with a worried frown. "Who… who's tending the inn?"

"It doesn't matter." He waved the topic away. "I reckon you don't feel so well."

"No… sorry."

Wilbur shrugged and leaned back on the chair. "Don't be. You aren't the first person to make a commotion here, and you certainly won't be the last. You should be pleased to know that the other patrons chased Jake back to the waterfront after he followed you downstairs. He is the only customer I don't know very well, so I was a little wary in letting him take you upstairs. I should've been more careful, I guess."

Lily lifted a heavy hand and rubbed it against her forehead, where her brain was irately practicing hand-to-hand combat against her skull. "N-No… it's not your fault. You tried to tell me not to drink so much."

"Right." Wilbur watched her for a moment before stating, "As publican of this inn, I deserve some answers, Lily. But before I get them, I don't want to see you suffering anymore. Surely your restorative spells will heal a common hangover."

Lily nodded, but it hurt to do so. She held her hands in front of her chest and reached into Aetherius, pulling back the magic that would cure not only her wicked headache, but the injuries from the day before. Once the warmth passed over her and she felt sufficiently better, she sat up in the bed and gestured for the Redguard to question away.

"All right. How do you know Jake?"

"Before I became a priestess three years ago, he showed up at my family's farm. A lot of people stay for a while, so it wasn't strange to see him. We talked idly, and I told him I wanted to be a mage. He told me that a priestess would be a suitable decision if I couldn't join the Mages Guild."

Wilbur's brows rose higher than she could imagine. "So it's because of his influence that you became a priestess?"

"I never would've thought of it."

"Ah. And you didn't recognize him immediately when you saw him last night."

"I'd only met him the once."

"I, ah, had a feeling about his intentions," Wilbur continued. His dark skin didn't make him prone to blushing, but he was still mortified. "But you seemed perfectly fine going along with them, so I didn't say anything. Sorry."

Lily shook her head experimentally, but it didn't hurt anymore, and neither did her mud crab injuries. "I actually had no idea what he was trying to do," she admitted a little shamefully. "If I hadn't made the connection between Jake and Jacob, I would've thought nothing of it and he…" She scowled and tried to soothe the anger that bubbled up at the thought of that monster. "He would've got what he wanted."

"Please don't think any less of the citizens of Anvil for what he's done," urged Wilbur. In fact, she had been starting to dislike the town for that exact reason. "He's only lived here for a few years, and can't really be judged as one of the population of Anvil. He wanders a lot."

Lily stretched leisurely before answering with something completely digressed. "Do you have parchment and a quill? I want to write a letter."

"Sure. One moment." The innkeeper was gone for a few minutes before returning with a sheet of parchment, a decent feather quill and an inkwell. He left her to her privacy as she checked the sharpness of the quill and grabbed from her bag a rare copy of _A Game at Dinner_ she had bought in town. Setting this on her lap, she dipped the quill into the well and pondered what to write.

_Martin,_

_I put this off long enough. I don't know why, but I was unable to bring myself to write to you for the past month. It's cowardly, I know, and embarrassing._

_The day after I left Kvatch, which, incidentally, is the same day you left, I decided I couldn't remain where I had vivid memories. Kvatch was out of the question, naturally, and so was the farm I grew up on. After spending less than half a day in the company of my father and sister, I collected my things and I travelled to Anvil._

_I've been there since, and that was a month ago. I don't dawdle about the city at all. In fact, I don't really know that many people, save for the regulars at the Count's Arms Inn, where I'm living. Each morning I leave Anvil altogether to find pesky creatures like rats and mud crabs and I practice my skill on them. I've gotten a lot better with destructive magic than when you last saw me. I think I could successfully take on that churl now._

_I don't know if you've ever been to Anvil, though I figure you have. The smell here is incredible. It's salty and clean, like the ocean, with the lingering reek of fish, also like the ocean. The buildings are all tall and regal, despite having been worn down by the winds of the nearby sea. I've met people I could never imagine existed. I've done things I'm not proud of, as any decent person has. I can barely remember my time spent here as a child, so this still counts as one of the places I've never been. I'm still scared to go to the harbour, though._

_Now. Onto the main part of my impromptu novel._

_I've told you about the man who first thought that I should become a priestess. Jacob Bercarius. I thought I'd never see him again, mainly because I thought I'd never leave the chapel. But now that I have, I have so many options open. When I was in the Count's Arms, I was approached by an Imperial who I thought looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. It turns out he was Jacob Bercarius. I won't get into details, but let's just say our reunion wasn't pleasant._

_The world scares me, Martin. The idea of sailors scares me, unfriendly strangers scare me—hell, even mud crabs have scared me on occasion, nuisances as they are. I miss the safety and naivety of the chapel in Kvatch._

_I think that's all I have to report. I think a month in Anvil is long enough, so after I finish exploring the city I'm going to move on to Skingrad, and then to Chorrol. I do hope you're still at the Priory._

_Love,_

_Lily_

She read it over a few times and finally deemed it worthy to send to… wherever Martin was. It would go to Chorrol; if he wasn't at Weynon Priory, then somebody who knew where he was would deliver it there.

Lily slipped from the bed and decided that the breeches, boots and tunic she was wearing yesterday and was still wearing would be acceptable. She brushed her shoulder-length waves and gently shook the parchment, waiting for the ink to dry. As she stood there, pondering, she gave _A Game at Dinner_ a hard look. Yet another morbid book for her to devour, like _Purloined Shadows_, but she wasn't in a mood to read. Her feet were itching to continue wandering.

That decision was made quickly. She made sure all her things were put together before tucking them underneath the bed and wandering down to the taproom of the inn. Only a few regulars were scattered about, including Didier and S'shani. Wilbur was standing behind the counter, once again cleaning dishes from an early breakfast.

"What time is it?" she asked as she folded up the thick paper. As she found a candle and dripped wax onto it, she asked, "I've been out for a while, haven't I?"

"I'm afraid so. It's eight in the morning. Where's that off to? I have some of my own postage that needs to be out; I could add it to the bundle," the friendly Redguard innkeeper said.

"Chorrol. Well, the Weynon Priory," she said, blowing on the wax and then neatly writing Martin's name—minus the Septim part—on the back, since she didn't have some royal seal. She handed the letter to Wilbur, along with a gold coin from her small money supply. "Thanks."

"No problem. Where are you off to today?"

"Nowhere dangerous, like the haunted cave," she promised, holding up a hand innocently. "I'm sticking to Anvil today."

"Good. Have fun."

Lily tipped an imaginary hat at him before slipping from the warmth of the Count's Arms. The day was stormy and overcast, but gulls soared overhead, squawking shrilly, and thin beams of sunlight split through the thin grey clouds. A breeze sucked in from the ocean pulled at the loose sleeves of her tunic, but she ignored it as she ignored the stares of the nobles. She hadn't even guessed that people would judge her for not wearing dresses, but apparently they did. She wasn't a heathen, after all. She was a priestess to Akatosh.

Her feet took her there before her mind did. If she wanted to get any journeying done before winter storms started, she had to move on from Anvil. But to do that, she had to go to the port.

The guards standing by the gate to the waterfront nodded as she passed, but nothing more. It was disconcertingly grim and made shivers crawl down her arms.

The docks weren't as bad as she envisioned them to be, but maybe that was because it was always the middle of the night in her imaginings. Slate waves lapped up against the long, sloping wood of hulls, and the lighthouse perched on its rock in the distance. Only a few buildings lined the outer wall, though it did give a lovely view of the coast and Anvil Castle. Men in women in all states of disrepair were wandering the boardwalk, stopping every so often to chat amongst each other before continuing on with their own thing. It delighted Lily.

She turned to the guard standing by the gates into Anvil and opened her mouth to ask a question. "Excuse me, do you know where I can find…" Damn, what would he be called? The informal, most likely. "Do you know where I can find Jake Bercarius?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The bastard sticks around the Flowing Bowl most of the time, and hasn't gotten it in his head that the people of Anvil don't want him here anymore."

Lily's eyes widened. "Is there something wrong with him?" Other than what she already knew, of course.

The guard hesitated, and shrugged. "Not really, ma'am. He and his friend are only a bother and petty thieves."

"Oh. Thank you." She turned on her booted heel and wandered down the boardwalk, searching for a sign that said the Flowing Bowl. It didn't take long for her to find the weathered hut with orange slat roof that bore the name among all the other identical buildings. She slipped into the inn and was surprised to find that it was small and cozy.

A dark haired Bosmer in brown immediately slunk up next to her, surprising her at her elbow. "Hello, Breton! Welcome to the Flowing Bowl. I'm Maenlorn. My twin brother is Caerlorn. How to tell us apart? I'm in brown, he's in blue. Simple really."

Lily smiled despite herself. "Cute. I'm Lily Laroque. I was told Jake Bercarius would be here."

Maenlorn frowned somewhat and glanced around the tavern. "Hm, well, he isn't here right now, but his friend Dar'vaba is here. I could ask where Jake went."

Lily nodded and smiled warmly at the Wood Elf. "Yes, please."

She watched silently from a corner as the little brown-clad man waltzed up to a menacing looking Khajiit seated at a table across the room. Dar'vaba had long pointed ears with little tufts of fur at the tips, and his tail was curled gracefully around his wooden chair and onto his lap. His feet were bare, she saw, and his finger and toenails were long, evil claws. Dark brown fur covered his body, though his chest was white and he had white patches on his feet, and white and tawny on his face. On his legs he wore plain black trousers, and his strong feline torso was left without garments.

His piercing green eyes flicked, unblinking, onto Lily as Maenlorn spoke softly to him, but other than that, the Khajiit didn't move. Lily wanted desperately to look away, but was afraid it would mean something bad to the feline.

Finally, after what felt like an aeon, Maenlorn made his way back toward Lily with Dar'vaba in tow. His tail swayed menacingly behind him as he stopped before Lily and studied her with that eerie Khajiit way of not blinking. He towered over her, and seemed much taller than most Khajiiti she knew.

"Dar'vaba, this is Lily, uh… Laroque. Miss, this is Dar'vaba," Maenlorn announced before backing away to tend to his tavern.

"Why do you want to speak with Cub?" the Khajiit growled softly. His ears flicked back in a way she didn't trust.

Lily stared blankly at him. "Cub?" she repeatedly dumbly, forgetting momentarily to be afraid of him.

Those bright green eyes narrowed and his ears pulled back further. "Jacob," he snapped, showing off his long teeth. Lily felt an icicle of fear jab her spine at the sight of them. "That is why the one called Maenlorn says you are here."

Jacob. Cub. Cute nickname. Lily wiped her palms on her breeches and looked hesitantly into the cat's eyes. They were so predator, so wild. They terrified her. "I… I just need to speak to him," she stammered weakly. "I know him. I'm not some mercenary or bounty hunter or something."

She must have said something wrong, for the wild of Dar'vaba's eyes grew more ferocious. Petty thieves? By the gods, it seemed like so much more than just that. "Cub is not here right now. Cub is busy."

"Cub is not busy anymore," a disgustingly familiar voice said at Lily's right, at the door to the tavern. "And I thought I told you I don't like being called Cub around strangers, Dar'vaba."

The cat hissed softly. "This runt wants you, Cub," he informed, blatantly ignoring his friend's request.

Lily reluctantly looked over, but she kept her eyes lowered. Hello, Jacob Bercarius' knees; how are you today?

"Hm, I guess she isn't really a stranger. Was there something you wanted, Lil?" His voice, his rough-around-the-edges Imperial voice, still held a faint trace of last night's silk ribbons.

Lily cringed at the nickname; that was enough to make her look up at his face. He was looking at her with nothing but courtesy and distant respect. There was no loathing or anger. That was odd. "My name is Lily," she corrected hotly. "Not Lil, Cub."

Something dangerous flashed in the dark brown eyes as they narrowed. "Funny. What do you want?"

"To talk to _you_. I thought I made that clear enough already." What was it about this man that made her so furious? Well, besides the previous night. That would make anyone in their right mind furious.

"Clear as mud. So talk."

Lily licked her lips and wished the dark presence of Dar'vaba would leave. He seemed intent on staying, though, so she would have to do this with him here. "Look, you and I don't like each other—"

"Nice assumption. I tried to get you into bed, didn't I? Almost made it too, but you had to go crazy."

A painfully bright blush popped onto her pale cheeks. She was sure it was glowing for everyone in Tamriel to see. "Whatever. I don't like _you _because of that, and I'm not about to forget it. But I have to accept that you were there for a major turning point of my life," she said begrudgingly.

Bercarius frowned at her, then at Dar'vaba. The Khajiit merely shrugged. Jacob looked back at her. "Seeing you drunk on the floor of an inn?"

"No!" Lily seethed, clenching her hands into fists. Her fury multiplied when she heard the wretched Imperial chuckle. Even Dar'vaba seemed to be enjoying her misery, as his ears had perked up and his tail was swishing in a particularly less ominous way. "No," she said again. "You're the one who reminded me that I didn't have to be a mage to practice magic. I could be a priestess. And I was. I was one for three years at the Great Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch, from the day after you mentioned it to me until the day Kvatch burned."

Thank the gods this shut him up.

"For three years I wanted to thank you for what you helped give me, and the next time I see you, you're bent on ra—" He gave her a positively venomous glare, and Lily thought she had better rephrase her thoughts. "Bent on sleeping with me," she concluded a little pitifully. "But I still wanted to thank you."

"Hm." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark pants and gave his cat friend a thoughtful look. Nothing in Dar'vaba's expression gave away what he thought. Just when Lily thought she couldn't take the silence anymore, Jacob—Jake, Cub, whoever he was—arched one brow at Laroque. "All right. Doesn't sound like a lie to me."

Her breath was stolen from her lungs in one angry swipe. "That's all you have to say?"

"Well, yeah. All you did was tell me a little story. It didn't really keep me on my toes, either." Bercarius glanced once more at Dar'vaba, and the Khajiit growled softly. "He didn't like it either," Jake translated, as if she needed help understanding that intimidating sound.

"Fine!" she snapped, feeling the blush worsen. This was more than humiliating. This disgusting stranger had so much control over her emotions, and he was just being a jerk. "Ugh, fine. Thank you."

"Better. And welcome."

He made her sick to her stomach. She had never felt this way about a person before. It was astonishing, and she didn't know to handle it.

Just as she turned to leave, that despicable man remarked to his friend, "I think that might've been her first time mad. Doesn't deal well, huh?"

"Brash cub," growled Dar'vaba. "Like you."

Lily was infuriated to be compared to that man, and she fiercely wished the blush away as she stomped from the Flowing Bowl.

If wishing didn't work, the cool winds coming in off the sea sure did. As soon as she emerged in fresh air, her anger began to ebb and gentle waves of relaxation flowed through her tense limbs. Nothing was as calming as the outdoors, far away from what irked you. Lily prowled partway down the boardwalk before forcing her legs into a leisurely stroll. Almost nobody bothered to give her a second glance, so she went merrily on her way, prepared to go back to the shores away from Anvil. Maybe she would send those malicious mud crabs back to Oblivion.

As she hiked farther and farther away from the city, she could have sworn to Akatosh that a shadow was following her, breathing down her neck.

—

When she returned to the Count's Arms long after dark, tired from her adventure and dripping from a spontaneous leap in the sea that left her terrified and breathless, she heard the rumours about an attack on the chapel in town. The priests were slaughtered and the church was a crime scene. Hearing those words forced painful memories to resurface, but she stomped them down, collected her things and left without bothering to say goodbye to Wilbur or the regulars. There was nothing more Anvil could give her.

Even as she left the city behind on the back of the sleepy horse, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.


	5. Victors

Travelling during the night wasn't the wisest thing to do, and Lily learned that quickly. She had been riding the slow, tired horse for less than two hours when she heard a rustle in the bushes. It was probably just an animal, and she kept her eyes before her, though now she wished she had a torch with her. At least her horse was young and strong, and if some angry wolf decided to leap out at her, she could outrun it.

But then, maybe the animal was a deer.

Yes, a harmless deer.

Lily let out a sigh of relief at the thought of a sweet doe trotting along in the tall grasses.

"You travel loudly, Breton," a voice snarled somewhere ahead of her. Lily felt her blood turn to ice when a leather-clad Khajiit slipped from the trees ahead and stood on the road in front of her. She had almost been expecting Dar'vaba, but this housecat had golden fur and eyes nearly the same colour.

With trembling fingers, Lily yanked on her horse's reins to keep him from plodding forward. He came to a reluctant stop some metres away from the Khajiit.

"Good," the cat purred. From where she sat, she could see its long, evil claws, and the moonlight made a dagger at his waist shine. "Wise girls stop when they are speaking."

"Wh-What do you want?" Lily demanded weakly.

The Khajiit stalked closer to her and his ears flattened. "One hundred drakes, Breton, or your head."

Lily knew for a fact that she didn't have one hundred gold pieces, but as she had the expensive white horse the highwayman, if that was what he was, probably wouldn't believe her if she said so.

"Your money or your life, Breton."

"I-I suppose it'll be my life, then."

The Khajiit's yellow eyes popped open. He obviously hadn't been expecting her answer. "Very well."

He moved toward her, but Lily didn't get off the horse. Throughout her practicing, she managed to keep a little well of magic in her fingertips at all times, and it wasn't hard to summon prickly electricity between her palms. As soon as she felt a decent build-up of sparks, she shoved her hands toward the approaching highwayman, and forks of lightning shot at him. He snarled and stumbled backward, but wasn't dead.

Her horse whinnied nervously and backed up as the Khajiit unsheathed his dagger. As he was closing the distance between them, Lily hastily searched for more Magicka already with her. There was a faint amount; she could feel the warmth in her hands. "Come on," she whispered. Desperation mounted as the warmth spread through her hand, and as soon as she thought it was enough, she formed a ball of fire between her palms.

When she looked up, the Khajiit was right in front of her. Lily screamed and lost concentration, and the magic evaporated.

"Bad Breton," the cat hissed. One clawed paw shot forward and clamped onto her ankle. Lily yelped as his nails dug through the leather of her boots. The horse, terrified by the noise, tried to run forward, and this only helped the highwayman yank Lily off the saddle.

She tumbled to the dirty road with a painful thud, and her head thumped against the hardened soil. Her vision instantly swam, and sharp pain branched through her brain. With a groan, Lily tried to roll away, but the highwayman kicked her hard enough to force her onto her back.

The dark blue sky was awfully pretty, she noticed, before he loomed over her.

"Maybe I will savour this," he purred sweetly as he leaned in close to her. His breath reeked of old venison, and Lily held back a gag. "Courageous, silly Breton." He lifted one hand and lightly dragged the tip of a claw down the side of her face, just hard enough to leave a tiny trail of blood. Lily moaned as the agony in her head multiplied with the new cut. "Cease your noise," he suddenly snarled, and he clamped his hand around her jaw, forcing her to look at him. He was plainly furious. "Better. I will kill you, Breton, and you will thank me from Oblivion." The other hand rose and lightly brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. "Your horse will make a nice snack, too."

In her foggy mind, she dimly realized that he was using both hands. His dagger was gone. She must have disarmed him when she hit him with the spell. Very discreetly, Lily dragged her hands through the dirt to find it. Her fingers bumped something, and she inhaled sharply when a tip stabbed her finger.

"Yes, death is coming, daughter of High Rock," the highwayman cooed. He hadn't noticed what she had done.

Lily slowly grabbed the hilt of the dagger and lifted it over him. A frown formed on his face, and just as he started to turn around, she slammed the blade into his shoulder.

Or rather, she tried to slam the blade into his shoulder. As he moved, she missed her mark and it glanced off his leather shirt. This only enraged him further, and he viciously smacked her already throbbing head, raking his claws into her scalp.

Eyes watering, Lily flipped over onto her stomach, feeling absurdly like a fish out of water, and tried to crawl on her elbows away from him. The dagger was still clenched tightly in her shaking hand, and when she felt him grab her shirt, she whirled around as quickly as she could and swiped blindly.

She knew she hit something when he gave a loud howl of pain. Lily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and saw that she had slashed his face and cut part of his cheek so his mouth was eerily wide.

No magic would help her now. It would take too long.

While he was distracted by his wound, she launched on him and buried the blade into his furry neck. Blood squeezed past the sharp knife, trying to squirt out as his heart pumped desperately.

Finally, it stopped. Gasping with shock, Lily wrenched the dagger from his neck; blood dripped slowly from the blade onto her hand. She trembled as she slowly wiped the weapon on the dead Khajiit's leg. She would keep the dagger; it would be useful.

Without looking at her victim—oh gods, had she just killed someone?—she climbed unhurriedly to her feet to keep the pain at bay. Her head was aching all over, from hitting it and being scratched and slapped, and her shoulder was throbbing something awful after landing on it. Even her ankle hurt when the cat had pulled her off her horse.

Oh, the horse. He was standing further down the road, pawing at the ground in agitation.

"Fat lot of help you are," Lily groaned as she stumbled toward it. "You could've stomped him to death, or something."

Healing would have to wait. She needed to sleep first, but not in the wild. It took a considerable amount of effort to crawl back onto the saddle, and once she was seated, she slumped forward onto the animal's neck and shut her eyes. The dagger was tucked in the belt of her breeches, an odd weight to her waist. Absently patting the horse with her bloodstained hand, Lily mumbled, "Take me to Skingrad, okay?" before sighing heavily and letting the horse do as he pleased.

It felt like mere seconds, but hours passed before the bright, early morning sunlight awoke her. Somehow she managed to stay on the horse during the night, and she could vaguely remember almost slipping off once or twice and waking up just in time to save herself.

When she tried to open her eyes, she found that blood had seeped from the scratches on her head and dried on her lashes. With a groan, she sat up and rubbed her neck, looking around. They were in some sunny, forested area, and somehow her horse had managed to stay on the road. Turning awkwardly, Lily saw that they had recently passed Kvatch; the smoke and remains of flames were visible over the treetops. She doubted some fires would ever be put out.

A little pull of guilt made itself comfortable inside her for not stopping to visit her family, but she tried to ignore it. She couldn't show up on her father's doorstep bruised, beaten and bloodied. In his worry, he would have forced her to stay at the farm for the rest of her life.

Ugh, the blood. It was everywhere. There were even some patches on her horse where she had touched him. If only there was a lake or stream nearby. Undoubtedly there was, but she wasn't going searching for it in her state.

"What time do you think it is?" she asked her horse as they plodded along. The poor animal was probably exhausted; they were lumbering to Skingrad very slowly. "I think it's maybe six in the morning. We should get to the city before midday, hm?" She absently ran her fingers through his coarse white mane. "You're a poor excuse for conversation," she remarked tiredly. "People are going to think I am completely insane for talking to a horse. Though, you're the only companion I have right now, so I'm going to talk to you no matter what."

The horse grunted in response.

Lily smiled somewhat, but it hurt the thin scratch on the side of her face. "Good. If I'm going to talk to you, I think you need a name." She stroked his mane as she thought it over. "You seem kind of like a jerk. An old horse from the farm was far nicer than you."

Another grunt.

"Well, once you get a more noticeable personality, I'll definitely give you a name." Lily exhaled heavily before deciding that she had to heal before she collapsed off the horse. She was feeling better after some sleep, but resting on the back of a moving horse wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. She quickly and skilfully fixed her wounds, but she knew she still looked haggard. Restoration couldn't remove blood, after all.

It was probably near eight or nine o'clock before the horse stumbled into County Skingrad. Seeing his bloodstained rider, a woman with very short hair hurried off a vineyard and helped Lily slip off the saddle.

"Are you all right, miss?" she asked worriedly.

"Um, yes, actually," Lily assured her. "I'm a… a healer," she said, stretching the truth just a bit. She knew a little more than a healer would, but she wouldn't qualify herself as a mage. "I'm Lily Laroque."

"I'm Bernadette Peneles. I work for Tamika. I grow grapes. For her wines," she informed, waving an arm back at the vineyard she had come from. "Are you sure you are all right?"

Lily nodded. "Yes, I am, really. I just need a place to wash this off."

The dark-haired Breton took the reins of the horse and led it and Lily toward the stables on the edge of the city walls. "Please, I insist, come to my house to clean up from your journey. The inns in this town are ridiculously overpriced."

"What's Skingrad like?" Lily wondered curiously.

Bernadette sighed dreamily and looked up at the sky after handing the horse to the stable hand. "I've lived here all my life. Grown grapes. It's all I know. Fresh air, mountains, the grapes on the vine. It's just… beautiful. I wouldn't wish to live anywhere else. And the people here are very friendly," she assured Lily.

Laroque already deduced that after meeting Bernadette Peneles. The woman seemed sweet, and Lily already liked her. "I've only been here a few times before, but it hasn't been for very long."

"Oh, why not?" the Breton questioned as they passed through the large gates into the city. Skingrad was a fairly wealthy city, and it showed in its clean, stable architecture. Buildings were set close together with narrow stone streets, and everything was orderly and easy to find.

"My father has a farm between Anvil and Kvatch, and he comes to nearby cities to sell his goods a few times a year. I joined him on occasion."

"Oh!" Bernadette looked apologetically at Lily, and a faint flush showed on her pale cheeks. "You're Louis Laroque's daughter. I remember him coming here with his young ones. Which one of you married Brom?"

"My sister, Marie. Did you know Brom?"

"Not really, but I had met him once or twice. My house is just up here." She led them around a church and toward a dark, narrow street. "How are they doing?"

"Wonderful. Marie's pregnant."

"Here we are." Bernadette pointed to a little house squished onto the street, and she held open the door for Lily. The girl ventured inside, and once Bernadette shut the door, she led Lily to a small storage room with a simple tub inside. "I'll get you water and soap. Just wait here."

Lily sighed and turned to gaze out the little window set in the wall. There wasn't much to see except a little plot of grass and the wall of the city. Skingrad didn't seem like it would be overly exciting, but she would still stay for a few days, though she didn't know where.

Bernadette returned shortly with a rough linen towel and a bar of simple soap in hand. "The water is boiling on the fire now. I'm afraid I don't have very expensive soaps."

"Don't apologize; I grew up on a farm," Lily said, smiling.

"Of course. May I ask what happened to you?"

"I was on my way here from Anvil last night, and a highwayman attacked me."

"Goodness!" Bernadette's hand flew to her mouth. "You're lucky to be alive!"

"I've been hearing that a lot in the past month."

"Why ever so?"

Lily sighed and a flare of pain speared her heart. "I was at Kvatch when it… happened."

Something in her voice must have told Bernadette not to ask, for the Breton kept her mouth shut. "Hm. I think the water may be done." She turned and left Lily alone once more, but returned even quicker than before. Once the tub was filled with steaming water, Peneles left Lily alone.

There was an incredible bruise on her shoulder where she had fallen off her horse. Though she couldn't see the whole thing after shedding her bloody shirt, Lily knew it covered her whole shoulder and some of her back. Her head was sore all over, and her ankle ached, only adding to injury. Never again would she ride in the night without a companion.

When Lily finished scrubbing her copper hair and bruised skin, the water in the tub was a disgusting murky red. Scowling at it, Lily climbed out and quickly towelled herself off only to realize that her clothes were ruined and the rest of her belongings were tied to her horse.

With the little towel wrapped awkwardly around her and her hair dripping, Lily leaned out of the door and called, "Um, Bernadette? Miss Peneles? I have no clothes."

Her surprised little, "Oh!" reached Lily from wherever she was hiding herself, and a minute later she returned to the closet with a simple white shirt and black pants, and what looked like black suspenders. "Here, I completely forgot. I'm so sorry."

Lily took the offering, and said, "Thank you, but I have clothes with my horse."

"Nonsense. That would take far too long. It's a gift to a newcomer to Skingrad." Bernadette smiled warmly. "I have to go back to Tamika's soon, so I'm afraid you'll be left to your own devices."

"That's all right. I can't imagine I'll stay long anyways, so I'm going to explore a bit." Lily waited for her hostess to leave before dressing in the clothes provided. They fit very well, she decided after slipping the suspenders over her shoulders. The shirt wasn't as baggy and shapeless as the one she wore before, and the pants were comfortably tight in all the right places. After stepping into her boots, she gathered up her things and left the room, letting her hair dry on its own.

Bernadette kindly gave her a bag to put her old clothes into before setting off for the vineyard, and leaving Lily alone in a strange city.

Well, what was there to do in Skingrad? Wine tasting, no doubt. This was wine country of Cyrodiil. There were also guild halls, shops, inns, a chapel—everything Anvil had. She hadn't spent much time in Anvil, so she figured she could do the same for Skingrad.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Lily began to stride toward the gate that led back out to the stables and the vineyards. Just as she was trying to keep her balance on the little incline to the gate, she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye.

"Are you still following me?" she muttered to herself, turning her focus back to the gate. But as she passed the guards to go explore the countryside, she heard a low chuckle behind her, accompanied by a venomous hiss.

—

"No mud crabs to gang up on me out here, Victor," Lily informed softly as she leaned over the fence of the stables to see her horse grazing nearby. Twilight was settling in, and she had spent the whole day running around the forests near Skingrad. She had found a few pretty flowers and startled a few deer, but that was about it. "I like your name. It suits you."

He looked up at her, chewing thoughtfully on a long piece of grass.

Lily smiled to herself and twirled a copper curl around her finger. "Well, you don't seem mad. Victor it is."

"Nice manly name. It suits him."

She froze, her hands clenched on the wood of the fence. Dread dripped down her spine, and she slowly turned on her heel to see a familiar face in the shadows of Skingrad's walls. Managing to make her paralyzed jaw move, Lily asked blankly, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Just stopping through on my travels," Jacob Bercarius retorted with a smirk. "Dar'vaba had some business here. I wasn't staying in Anvil if I didn't have to."

At the mention of the Khajiit, Lily squinted and peered through the darkness. The cat was standing just behind Bercarius, hidden by blackness. He was silent as he watched her, and nearly invisible in the shadows.

"Hm." Lily grunted and turned away, looking back at her horse. "Well, I hope you two enjoy yourselves while you're here. Be sure to tell me when you leave and where you're going; I don't want to meet up with you again."

She heard footsteps behind her, and she rolled her eyes as he brushed up against her arm. He was beside her, leaning on the fence just as she was, and she could feel his dark gaze on her face. Lily kept her eyes firmly on her horse.

"I can't say I know how well that'll work out, Lil. You want to know when we're getting out of here, but you don't want to meet up with us again? Your logic astounds me."

"Cub," Dar'vaba growled. Lily gave a start of surprise and the tiny hairs on her body all stood on end; his voice came from directly behind her. "I must go."

"Yeah, have fun, kitty," Jake said, turning to his friend. "Don't pick the place clean."

They stood in tense silence for some time. Lily refused to look in his direction, but she could still tell that he was watching her. "Did you want something?" she asked stiffly after many minutes.

"Nope. Just enjoying the night. Nice horse, by the way. A lot better than that flea-bitten thing you went to Anvil with."

Lily jerked with surprise and finally looked at him. He was eyeing her horse with contented expression. His hair was somewhat longer than she originally thought, she noticed absurdly. It was currently held back in a short ponytail.

"How did you—"

"I don't stick to the city, just like you. I see a lot that happens. It isn't hard, if you know where and how to look."

She licked her dry lips and ventured to ask, "Um, what did you mean when you told Dar'vaba not to pick the place clean?"

A little smile perked up his lips. "He's a hungry kitty," he replied, singsong. Those dark eyes flicked over to Lily, and she couldn't help but stare back. "I'm not going to lie to you, Lil—I was glad when I saw you here. Me and Dar'vaba got here early this morning and what a surprise it was to see you coming not long after, practically dead. Should've come with us. We could've protected you."

Lily sneered at the thought of him protecting her. "That doesn't explain why you were glad to see me," she snapped.

He gave a low chuckle that made her blood boil. "Fair enough. There's just something about you. Something in the way you hate me. I like it."

"Masochist," she mumbled, scowling at the fence she leaned on.

"You like it too," he observed conversationally.

The Breton cringed and turned to glower at him. He was once again watching her, only now there was a smug expression on his unshaven face. "I most certainly do not," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. Did he enjoy egging her on? He was only succeeding in making her even angrier than she was before.

"Aha, see? If you didn't like it, you wouldn't have dignified me with an answer." He leaned in closer to her and tilted his head so she was looking down at him. "If you really hated me, you'd just ignore me, or you'd tell the guards that I was trying to get you into bed in Anvil. You'd get me arrested. But you can't bear to see me gone, can you? You'd feel shitty."

"I've… I've got a conscience," Lily replied awkwardly. How could a scoundrel like Jake Bercarius be so astute? Not like what he was saying was the truth of course, but he certainly knew his way around a person's mind. "I couldn't send someone to jail."

"Sure." He pulled back, away from her vision. "You're the almighty priestess, right? Never done a thing wrong? The one who reads books about House Dres and gets drunk in ports? You can't send someone to jail. What if that someone raped you? What if that someone robbed you?" She felt something tickle her left hip, and she had a horrible feeling he had done something. "What if that person killed you?"

Something cold touched her neck, and she slowly looked down. He was smirking at her in a manner that made her feel extremely vulnerable, and in his hand was the dagger she had taken from the highwayman. The bastard had successfully picked her pocket.

"Give it back," she ordered softly.

One brow arched and he slipped the knife back into her belt. As he did, his hand brushed her hip in a way that made shivers crawl down her spine. "But what if? Would your conscience stop you then?"

Lily glared fiercely at him, but it only seemed to amuse him more. "Never," she breathed poisonously, and turned to glower at the grass in the stables.

A sliver of his teeth showed as his smirk morphed into a mockery of a grin. He leaned in close to her and whispered into her ear, "I just robbed you. Have fun reporting me to the guards."

Lily continued to stare at the grass. Her breathing was shallow in her ears, and her heart thudded anxiously away in her chest. By the time she looked up, she knew he had long since left as silently as he had come.

She gave the dagger at her side a sharp glance. How had he taken it so silently? She had felt little more than a whisper of wind on her side when he had taken it—or was that actually a whisper of wind? She could recall what the guard in Anvil had said about Jake Bercarius and his friend: they were petty thieves.

The uncomfortable churning in Lily's gut told her that they were much more than just petty thieves.

She wanted to leave this city as soon as possible as long as they were in it. She wanted nothing to do with them. With a sigh, she knew she wouldn't leave right away, but she could distance herself from them. For one, she could avoid staying in Skingrad for extended periods of time. The inns were overpriced anyways, right?

Lily clambered over the fence and wandered over to Victor. The horse had made himself comfortable on the grass and was watching her approach in boredom. She plopped down beside him and tried to get as contented as he was on the lawn. With a heavy sigh, she murmured, "Goodnight, Victor," and rolled onto her side to sleep.

But she was plagued with dreams the whole night long. Jagged, sharp rock rose out of the earth and fiery monsters emerged from its hellish depths, killing everything in their path… a small, old farm ablaze, its inhabitants shrieking as they ran to desperately save their lives… two people, a man and a woman, an Imperial and a Redguard, clinging to each other as tears streamed down their faces… the same man, only so much different in thick robes of fur and rich colour, standing before a huge crowd… a dark-haired man and his housecat accomplice stalking up behind the regally dressed figure, daggers in hand… oblivious to everything as they brandished their weapons…

Lily awoke with a shriek. A bay horse she didn't recognize neighed in agitation and hurried away from her, irritated that it couldn't sniff her out as it wanted.

"Hey!" a tall, golden skinned Altmer shouted from across the field. "Don't scare the horses!"

"S-Sorry," she stammered weakly. She was trembling all over, and her body was covered in a cold sweat. Oh gods, that had been a horrific night to endure. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, Lily slowly stood up, finding that she had an aching back from sleeping on the grass like an animal.

Had those dreams meant anything, or were they just a random sequence of images her brain sent to her in its nocturnal boredom? An Oblivion Gate, the Laroque farm on fire, Martin and Oleta in each other's arms, Martin in the Imperial robes… and Jake Bercarius and Dar'vaba lurking up behind him with weapons drawn.

If those two even _thought _of touching Martin, they would have another thing coming.

Lily brushed herself off with trembling fingers. Just as she was going to climb back over the fence, she caught a figure in the corner of her eye and she turned to see a Breton woman galloping down the road on a beautiful black horse.

A jolt of tortuous memory smacked Lily almost physically, and she screwed her eyes shut to keep it at bay. It wasn't the same woman who had delivered the assassination broadsheet in Kvatch. No, there were dozens of couriers all over the province.

Even so, she couldn't help but shout, "Excuse me!" as the woman was about to ride past.

"So sorry, can't talk now," the deliverer exclaimed. "Copy of the Black Horse Courier?"

Lily shrugged and held up a hand as the Breton snatched a scroll of parchment from a leather bag at her side. "Sure. Thank you." Not waiting to hear if the woman replied, Lily unrolled the newspaper. At the top, it read '_Gray Fox, Man or Myth?_' and the story itself made Lily frown. She had never heard of the Gray Fox, but evidently he ran the Thieves Guild. What an eerie thought, that there was an entire guild devoted to thievery. She shuddered and tucked the broadsheet into her belt beside her knife.

Just as she was going to venture to the stable house to ask where her saddlebags had been put, yet another rider trotted down from the Gold Road leading from the Imperial City. She watched in vague interest as he handed his horse over to the Altmer after making sure everything was all right in a bag with him.

"Excuse me, miss," he said as he neared her. "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

The Imperial seemed like a friendly sort, so she nodded amiably. "Of course. What is it?"

"Er, well, I'm new at being a courier, so, unlike my predecessor, I don't know the people by memory," he admitted, shrugging one shoulder. He pushed his short blonde hair away from his face as he glanced down at his bag. "I was hoping you could describe some to me, so I can deliver their letters."

"Sure."

"Thank you very much!" He dug in his bag and grabbed a handful of letters that were carefully bound with twine and labelled '_Skingrad_.' The Imperial cleared his throat and said, "Falanu Hlaalu."

Lily knew immediately who he was referring to. "She owns All Things Alchemical, a shop in town," she said. "Dunmer, red hair, very peculiar. It would be hard to miss her."

He nodded once and moved on to the next one. "Mog gra-Mogakh."

"Hm… gra? Female," Lily murmured. That was about the only way she could distinguish male Orcs from female, though she felt bad admitting it, even to herself. "It's probably either the owner of the stables here, or her sister, who runs the Two Sisters Lodge."

"Toutius Sextius."

Even though she pondered it for some time, Lily had no clue. She shrugged. "Sorry, no. You'll have to ask someone else."

"Ah. Um…" He shuffled through a few more letters before saying, "Lily Laroque."

A frown immediately formed on her brow. "That's me."

His face lit up at finding a recipient of letters. He dug through the pile before handing her three folded squares of parchment. Lily gawked at them, but he needed to continue and made it known by asking, "And do you know who Bernadette Peneles is?"

Lily gave him directions to the Breton's house, and he thanked her profusely before hurrying into the city to deliver the rest of the mail. Once he was gone, she sat on the fence and flipped through the parchment. One bore her name in the bold hand of her father. The next had writing that she didn't recognize, and the last was telltale as Martin's.

Louis and Marie had wisely combined their letters into one parcel. They both talked about everyday life on the farm, how Marie's husband Brom still wasn't good at helping out with the crops, and how her pregnancy left her too tired to do more than clean up the house. It was all very mundane, and made her smile.

The next letter was from Marius, as she quickly learned. He said that things were going well in Bravil, and yes, he was being reassigned to the Imperial City when the next year hit. He preferred the culture and cleanliness of the City to Bravil, which was loud and didn't have a very pleasant odour.

Lily exhaled heavily as she opened the last one. She still felt guilty for sending Martin a letter so far behind everyone else's, but she knew he wouldn't be bitter for it.

Maybe she was expecting the parchment to explode when she opened it, but it didn't. He replied to her note, saying that he was proud of her for practicing her skills with Magicka, and that he always knew she could amount to anything she put her mind to. In response to her comment about Jacob Bercarius, he simply said to stay away from that man as much as she could; he seemed dangerous. And at the end, he said that, regretfully, he had left Weynon Priory long ago and he wasn't permitted to say where he was now, though word would probably get out soon enough, and if she kept sending him letters, she would be wise to send them to Bruma. He was so delighted to get her letter, as he had only the day before received one from Oleta. It was just like the days at the chapel again.

And signed at the bottom with a stylish flourish, '_Love always, Martin_.'

Lily rubbed her still-dry eyes and folded the letters neatly. She would respond later. For now, she wanted to get out of Skingrad. She wanted to see the city, and she did, but nothing called her name inside those stone walls. It was the outdoors that intrigued her; cities were just a place to stop for a little while.

With the letters clenched tightly in her hand, she strode purposefully to the little house of Grateful Pass Stables. The owner of the horses, Ugak gra-Mogakh, was determinedly sweeping the steps with a stiff broom.

The Orc looked up only briefly from her work. Seeing who was approaching her, she returned her gaze to the ground. "What do you need?"

"My things," Lily replied, getting straight to the point. If the green-skinned Orc could be rude, so could Lily.

Ugak muttered something under her breath before setting the broom against the wall and heading into the house. She returned a moment later and dumped the bags into Lily's arms, making the Breton stagger under their weight. "Ask Tilmo for the horse's gear." The conversation seemed to be over; Ugak picked up the broom and continued to sweep.

Lily stumbled back to the fence and dropped her things over the other side. She could feel Tilmo the High Elf watching her as she hopped back into the corral and began calling for her horse.

"Victor! We're leaving now, sorry!" Lily spotted the white horse standing some distance away from her, watching her silently. "Sorry," she said again, jogging up to him. She clucked her tongue and led him toward the Altmer. "Excuse me, are you Tilmo?"

"Yes."

"I need my saddle."

Tilmo quickly helped her get Victor ready to go. As he was finishing strapping on the bags, he asked, "Haven't been here long, eh? Where are you headed to next?"

"Chorrol, probably," Lily said, shrugging as she patted Victor's jaw.

The Altmer shook his head, surprising her. "No, go to the Imperial City first," he advised. "It's on the way, see." He observed her blank expression and added, "You don't see."

"I've never been past Skingrad."

"Hm." Tilmo finished up his work and pondered her. "Well, I think I might have a map I don't use anymore. If you're travelling and don't know the country, you'll need it." Before she could protest, accept or even take another breath, the High Elf turned on his heel and hurried into the house nearby. Lily waited patiently beside her horse until he came back with a scroll in hand. "Here you are. Use it wisely, miss."

Lily blinked in surprise and took the map. "Um, thank you very much." She stuffed it under her belt beside her dagger, and her fingers brushed against the sharp little weapon. An uncomfortable feeling churned slowly inside her as she glanced down at the knife. She still couldn't wrap her mind over how silently and easily Jake Bercarius had taken it from her.

For some reason, that made her think of the broadsheet given to her by the deliverer of the Courier. A horrible intuition told her that Jacob was a thief, and not just a petty one.

She thanked Tilmo again and clambered onto Victor's back. The horse grunted unhappily, but begrudgingly turned toward the gate of the fence when she pulled on the reins.

"_Don't pick the place clean._"

Don't rob everyone, Dar'vaba. Leave some for Cub.

Lily shuddered and gently pressed the heels of her boots into the horse's flanks, forcing him to go faster. The sooner she got away from them, the better.

—

On the eastern side of the Gold Road, she had seen a dark-furred Khajiit hunting a deer not far from where she rode. Near the ruins of an Ayleid fortress, she saw two male figures hopping amongst the fallen stones and old trees. When she reached the shores of Lake Rumare, a patrolling Legionnaire told her that he had scared two mischievous fellows away from the Wawnet Inn in Weye after they caused some trouble with the locals. A very disgruntled Daedric worshipper told her upon some persuasion that all the belongings at Clavicus Vile's shrine had been stolen when nobody was looking and now they had nothing but a statue of a Daedric Prince. Another traveller in the tangle of crossroads near Weye let her know that two dark men had been spotted exploring the ruins of the Imperial fort, Nikel.

By the time she reached the village of Weye outside the Imperial City, she had heard all sorts of rumours and stories involving the same two people, and she knew that they were Jacob and Dar'vaba, though she never told anyone this. She knew they had to be following her just for their enjoyment, and that they seemed to know a faster way of travelling than her, as they had reached Weye hours before she did, according to the Legionnaire's report.

Rather than be irritated and frightened that they were headed for the same city she was, Lily felt herself fill with a little bubble of wry amusement. That foolish Imperial really did like bothering people, didn't he? The Khajiit seemed too stoic and too austere to care, but he seemed to follow his friend's antics without question. Undoubtedly they were the only people in the world for each other; that thought made the priestess in her pity them, despite who they were.

She spent the night in the Wawnet Inn, where the people were still discussing the problems from earlier in the day. Lily questioned them further and found out that an Imperial and a Khajiit had showed up acting like they owned the place, and were irritating enough to make the residents of Weye alert a nearby Legion officer.

When she arrived in the Talos Plaza District of the large and glorious Imperial City, she knew the game of cat and mouse was on.

She spotted them out of the corner of her eye everywhere she went, and though they never spoke to her, she knew they were following her in a sort of twisted game. In the Market District, it had only been Jacob wandering down the street, talking to one of the owners of the Black Horse Courier, and Dar'vaba was nowhere to be seen. In the Arboretum, the Khajiit was once again at his side as they explored the various statues of the gods.

Lily even caught herself smiling when she saw them once again in the Temple District.

They sure were persistent.

She took some time from seeing everything she could in the City when she arrived in the Temple District. It was a wealthy region, and the people were friendly, but that didn't concern her. There, in the middle of it all was the Temple of the One.

She sidled nervously up to it, feeling as though she wasn't good enough to be in its presence. It was tall and domed with many thick columns, and it seemed to radiate glory. This was where the Dragonfires were. This was where every new Septim emperor started his reign, in this temple with the Dragonfires and the Amulet of Kings. This was where Martin would begin his life as a ruler.

Lily was afraid to go into the temple, so she lingered outside, simply gazing at it. Why hadn't he already come here to light the Dragonfires? If he had, surely she would have heard about it. The entire Empire would be blabbing about it for months on end, especially since he was illegitimate. Something was stopping him from getting here to claim the throne. Why else would he have told her to send letters to Bruma?

She gave the beautiful temple another long look before turning and heading for the Elven Gardens District, the only region in the City that she hadn't explored, save for the Arena.

The Elven Gardens District was lovely as well. It seemed the whole city reeked of richness, evident in tall, immaculate stone buildings and royally dressed citizens prancing through wide, open streets. She enjoyed looking at everything, and probably spent too long simply admiring statues in the districts, but she came from a simple life, first as a farmer and then as a priestess. Never in her life had she seen something as beautiful as this city.

Just as she stepped into the Gardens from the Talos Plaza—one downside to the Imperial City was the hike it took to get from one district to another—the sun began to set, and the whole world seemed to be blanketed in a warm orange glow.

Someone nearby her had stopped to watch as well. She heard him sigh softly and murmur, "Nice, huh?"

Lily nodded and glanced to the right. "Yes, it—" She paused, catching sight of the man a few paces away. Rather than wear plates of steel, he had tiny, thin loops of silvery metal linked together into a shirt and draped over his body, and the long, sleek blade at his hip looked like none other she had seen before. But the face was the same, the fair skin, dark hair and kind, wise eyes. The vermillion light cast upon him from the sunset made him look as though he was standing in fire. An icy shiver dripped through her, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

He noticed her sudden silence and his gaze roved from the sunset to her. He jerked with recognition, and took a few steps toward her. "Sister Lily?" he asked incredulously. "I never thought I'd see you here."

"Uh… yes, it's Lily," she stammered. "It's… you," she finished stupidly.

"Baran," he said helpfully. "What are you doing here?"

Her mind drew a sudden blank, and before her she saw the young man in dented and scratched steel with blood in his hair and flesh stuck to the blade of his steel longsword, grinning because he had just successfully closed an Oblivion Gate from the _inside_.

"I don't know," she said mechanically. It seemed as though somebody had filled her bones with lead, and she was attached to the ground like the statues in the Arboretum.

His eyes widened in alarm and he grabbed her arm. "Oh, gods, you look awful." She let him lead her to the side of the road, where he sat her down on the ground before making himself comfortable beside her in his shiny mithril armour. "Are you all right?"

Lily nodded stiffly and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder to comfort her. It helped some. "Yes, I'm fine. What are you doing here?" she asked, echoing his question.

His sigh made her hair move slightly as she leaned on him. "Jauffre sent me here from Cloud Ruler Temple to meet up with Baurus," he replied simply. "Got here yesterday because I didn't want to meet him right away."

Lily pulled away from him and frowned. "Who's Jauffre, who's Baurus, and what in Tamriel is Cloud Ruler Temple?"

Baran's eyes widened considerably and he let loose a multitude of extremely foul curses that made Lily want to gather up the City's priests and check him for demonic invasion. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone," he growled after spewing out the expletives. "Jauffre is going to be so mad when I get back…"

"Well, now that you've mentioned it, you have to tell me," Lily pointed out, feeling like a naughty child who bribes to get what she wants.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but she knew he was about to explain. He was extremely young, she realized; maybe even around her age.

"All right, well, on twenty-seventh of Last Seed, I was in the prison here," he said. Lily's jaw dropped, but he didn't seem to notice. "Some guards showed up at my cell, accompanied by none other than Uriel Septim himself. They came into my cell and opened some sort of secret door. Baurus was with them. They were Blades." He glanced at her, and she nodded; she knew what the Blades were.

Another sigh. "They said they wouldn't stop me if I went through the door, so I followed them, being careful not to get in their way. There are underground ruins beneath the Imperial City," he mentioned distractedly. "But anyways, I was separated from them after some time, had to go through some caves before finding them again. The Emperor told me that I was the one in his dreams, the one who would 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion.' Sounds like nonsense, I know, I thought that too, but he was right.

"All the while we were escaping, the Blades had to fight off these red-robed assassins who had summoned armour that looked Daedric. Nobody knew who they were. Finally, as Baurus and the Blades were fighting more and I was given strict orders to protect the Emperor—who had a fair hand with a blade, by the way, and I only had a rusty iron sword with me—another assassin showed up in yet _another _secret door and killed the Emperor, but not before he could give me the Amulet of Kings and tell me to bring it to Jauffre in Weynon Priory. There was another heir."

"Martin." She had whispered it without meaning to.

Baran nodded slightly. "Exactly. So I went to the Priory, found out the heir was a priest in Kvatch, and was ordered to bring him back to Chorrol so Jauffre could take him to light the Dragonfires. You know what happened after that."

"But not after _that_," she urged, quickly moving away from the topic of Kvatch. "Obviously you two got away safely."

The knight nodded slowly again. "We rode to Chorrol as quickly as we could, but the place was overrun with those red-robed assassins. Most of the monks were killed, but Jauffre and Martin were all right, so we decided to get out of there. We had to go to Cloud Ruler Temple, the home of the Blades."

"Why?" she interjected. "You had Martin; you had the Amulet—why not go to the Temple of the One?"

He swore again, and Lily cringed. "I knew I forgot something. When the assassins showed up in the Priory, they stole the Amulet. They had one piece of the puzzle, and we had the other. We went to Cloud Ruler Temple, north of Bruma, so Martin would be safe with the Blades until we could get the Amulet back."

"And you're still working for them?"

"Yeah. I'm Jauffre's lapdog." He chuckled, and Lily smiled along with him. He was easy to get along with. "I offered to help. He made me a Blade."

"Congratulations," Lily said, and meant it. Becoming a Blade was a prestigious honour.

Baran smiled somewhat. "Thanks. So that's why I'm here. Jauffre wants me to talk to Baurus, the Blade who was there when the Emperor died, in case he knows more about the Mythic Dawn."

"The what?"

Another curse. "The assassins. Don't tell anyone about this," he said, dropping his voice even though nobody was nearby. "I wasn't supposed to, Sister, but you seem like a trustworthy sort, since you're a friend of Martin's."

Lily smiled and was about to promise to keep her mouth shut, but a low voice behind her stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't worry. I won't tell a soul."


	6. One or two revelations

Lily's smile faded and she didn't bother to move as Baran whirled around, yanking a dagger from his boot. "Jake," she said flatly.

There were sounds of struggle and very male grunts behind her, but she continued to stare in front of her. Finally, they stopped and Baran resurfaced from the bushes behind him, and she finally looked over. He had Jacob's head locked in one powerful armoured arm. "You _know _this guy?" he demanded, gawking at her.

"Unfortunately."

"Hey!" the trapped Imperial squawked indignantly. "You can't say that! You smiled when you saw me today!"

"I'm sure you imagined that," Lily lied, turning to glower at the thief. "What do you want?"

As if to emphasize her words, Baran tightened his grip around Bercarius' neck, but this didn't seem to go over well. Something moved behind Lily, and a razor-sharp claw suddenly poked her neck, near where the dremora had cut her.

"Touch him, Blade scum," growled the thing behind her. "I want you to."

Baran clearly knew a threat when he heard one. Lily stared, wide-eyed, as the knight slowly and reluctantly removed Jacob from his clutches. As soon as he was free, Bercarius shoved away and rubbed his neck.

"Thanks, Dar'vaba," he said gratefully, "but you know I'd be pretty pissed if you killed Lil."

The Khajiit released her and slunk over to Jacob's side. Once he was gone, Lily glowered at Jake. "I thought I told you to stop calling me Lil," she demanded, just as Baran asked curiously, "Why would you be pissed if she died?"

Jacob's dark brows arched upwards, obscured by a few locks of fallen brown hair. "She's fun," he said, grinning between Baran and Lily. "I'd be one sad little boy."

"What do you want?" Lily asked again, feeling her irritation slip away. "Did you follow me here just to bother me?"

"No, actually. Well, yeah, we followed you, but that was only part of the reason. I actually have some business on the waterfront I need to do tonight," Jake admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "So, Uriel had another son, huh?"

Baran's eyes flashed dangerously and his lips pressed together, but he didn't answer. At the knight's silence, Jake nodded and said, "Hm, figured as much. Emperors never know boundaries. They've all got a few illegitimate kids, I bet. Hey!" He slapped Baran's arm, and Lily winced; it had to have hurt to hit solid muscle underneath mithril. "I've heard of a lot more Oblivion Gates opening up around Cyrodiil. Knowing anything about that, Hero of Kvatch?" It would have been impossible to miss the mockery in his voice.

Lily was a little surprised by this. There was no way to tell if he was lying, but he seemed sincere enough. More Oblivion Gates in the province? That was bad news. She silently thanked this Jauffre fellow for thinking to bring Martin to Cloud Ruler Temple.

"That doesn't concern you," Baran retorted. "Excuse me. I have things to do." He stood and scowled at Jacob. "Sister, would you like to join me? I can't say it'll be fun, but…" He trailed off, and she knew what he was trying to say: want to get away from this creep?

Lily reluctantly shook her head. "I don't want to get in the way." _Of business with Baurus_, she let her eyes finish for her. "But it was sweet for asking."

Baran nodded and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword—which she guessed was a katana. "All right. Remember, if you ever need anything, Sister, I'll probably be in the City for a while yet."

Lily hopped to her feet. "Thank you." She glanced back at Jake and Dar'vaba, who were both watching with mild interest, before leaning in close to Baran and whispering, "How many Oblivion Gates have you closed?"

A small smile formed on his face. "Four, including Kvatch," he admitted, just as softly. "I've still got burns from the last one." Lily gasped, and he chuckled. "Have you ever been to Oblivion? It's hot, and I wear metal. I should go before Baurus kills me. See you later, Sister."

"Bye." Lily watched him leave in silence. Once he was around a corner up ahead, she turned back to Jacob and his housecat.

"Oh, man," Jake said as if in disbelief. "He was totally flirting with you."

Her face suddenly grew hot. "No, he wasn't."

Dar'vaba growled quietly, and Jake said, "Well, not the whole time. But he was so friendly, all cuddly and close. Wonder where his burns are? _It's hot, and I wear metal_," he cooed. The cat growled again. "I'll bet he wears a manly metal codpiece."

Just because he was quickly embarrassing her and she desperately needed something to say, she snapped, "You sound jealous!"

Jake's expression immediately dropped, and Dar'vaba's ears flattened. "Jealous?" the Imperial choked. "Of _that_? Because I definitely want to be the poor shit who has to take orders from an old Blade git just to get some new fool on the throne."

Rage built up inside Lily, and she didn't even notice as her hands grew warm with magic. "Don't talk about him that way."

"Who? Your precious hero, a Blade Grandmaster or Marty?"

"All of them! You are quite possibly the most infuriating man on the planet, Jacob," Lily muttered, rubbing her palms against her legs.

He stood up, and was followed immediately by Dar'vaba. Lily cringed and wished they had remained seated on the ground; both were so much taller than her, and so much more intimidating when standing. To her surprise, he smiled. Well, smirked, but the idea was the same. "Jacob? Since when have we been on first-name terms? I guess you don't hate me. Stop proving my point, Lil."

"Cub." Lily and Jacob both stopped glaring at each other and turned to look at Dar'vaba. He was gazing impassively at the sky. "Night settles. The Garden will not wait."

Jake waved a dismissive hand. "I've got 'til midnight, and the waterfront isn't far. And he's not about to kick me out for being late." The Khajiit merely glowered at him, and Bercarius sighed heavily. "All right, fine, let's go. He's not going to be happy to see you again, you know, so you'll going to have to hang out at the Bloated Float or something."

"I know."

Lily watched silently until Jake turned back on her. "Well, I guess we're taking our leave of you, Lil. For now."

"For now," she repeatedly stiffly.

Jacob smirked and winked once, which made her blood run cold. "Come on, we should go, cat," he said to his friend, and the two slunk past her. They made absolutely no noise as they strode south to the waterfront of the Imperial City.

As she watched them disappear into the growing night, she made a quick decision. She would go to an inn, and once she was sure they had left the district, she would go to the waterfront.

And she would finally know who Jake Bercarius really was.

—

She was surprised to learn that the inn she chose at random was the same that Baran and his Blade informant were meeting at. Baran grinned at her when she stepped inside, and his Redguard companion merely muttered something under his breath and continued staring at the counter.

Lily ignored them and sat in the corner for a few hours, forming little balls of fire between her palms before wishing them away with the same power that summoned them. A few other patrons glowered at her and she heard one mumble, "That sort of thing should be left for the Archmage and his puppets," but she ignored them too and waited another hour and a half before leaving.

It wasn't hard to find the waterfront. She simply travelled south through the city until she came to a gate that reeked of water and bird droppings. The guards let her through without question, and she found herself staring at a large lighthouse attached by bridge to a half-circle of stone wall. Two ships were docked in the harbour; one was menacingly dark, and the other was brightly lit, and she could hear people shouting and laughing from inside. It actually sounded like an inn, but that was ridiculous. It was a ship.

She hurried down the bridge to the stone walkway by the ships. She didn't know what time it was, but it was certainly nearing midnight, and she wanted to know what Jacob was up to.

All along the semi-circle wall were doors and archways, but none led anywhere that seemed important until she reached the dark, quiet ship. She glanced through an arch and spotted old, derelict shacks squatted by the shores of Lake Rumare. This seemed to be the only place with any life, other than the floating tavern, so she crept down the stairs and peered around. The houses were all dim and silent, and in the darkness she couldn't see. She hid quickly behind a wall and cast a simple night-eye spell over herself, and everything suddenly became brighter.

From her simple hiding place, she found she could see most of the sad little neighbourhood. Next to the wall leading to the boardwalk was a little patch of grass behind a few houses, and besides another couple dilapidated buildings, it was a fairly small, grimy place.

Just as she was about to give up and maybe ask nonchalantly around the lit up ship, she spotted something moving far ahead, in the plots of lawn behind the houses. It was a person, someone tall with shoulder-length waves and an obviously masculine build. She couldn't see his face, but if she had to place a guess, then this was Jacob himself.

She hid a little better to recast the spell before creeping out again. He was leaning against a little stone wall behind the last house in the row, and everything about his body language made him seem tired and bored.

Finally, after an aeon, another figure crept out of the shadows near him. Jacob didn't seem to notice, but he wasn't at all surprised when the man spoke. She couldn't hear their words, they were too far away, but she caught the low rumble of male voices; _Imperial _male voices. Whoever he was with was a countryman, evidently.

From what she could see, the newcomer was your average man, though he was wearing a dark grey cowl over his head and the armour he wore wasn't like any she recognized. Every so often she heard him exclaim, "Capital!" as if he was delighted about something, but Jake kept his voice low.

And then it was over. Lily didn't know what she expected when their meeting finished, but it was certainly more than the final "Capital!" and the hooded stranger slinking back into the darkness without another word. It was a bit anticlimactic, actually.

But there was something about that man. She felt as though she had seen him before, but she wasn't entirely sure where. That grey hood of his seemed very familiar somehow…

Realization slapped her across the face. The Black Horse Courier and wanted posters all over the City—_that _was where she had seen him!

He was the Gray Fox: the leader of the infamous Thieves Guild.

By the gods, Jacob Bercarius was a professional thief.

Panic washed over her and she knew she had to run, had to leave, had to do _something _other than stand there like a dolt beside the stairs that led to the rest of the waterfront! But she couldn't move. Her feet were rooted to the old dirt below her, and she was simply gawking in his direction as the night-eye faded away and his dark shadow was heading in her direction.

Her hearted was thudding crazily in her chest, threatening to break free of her ribcage. Her eyes were locked on him as he meandered idly toward her, but she couldn't do more than stare. Her vocal chords were frozen.

She had just seen the Gray Fox. She had just seen one of the most dangerous men of history with her very eyes.

It looked like Jake was going to wander right past her, back up to the main part of the waterfront. Just as he turned to head for the stairs, he paused and said softly, "You won't tell."

Her breath came back to her in one sudden, painful gulp. As soon as she regained control of her movements, her fingers began to tremble and she felt on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Wh-Wh-What?" she stammered pitifully.

It was too dark to really see him clearly until he came right up close to her. Rather than a smirk or a leer or a grin as she expected, his face was utterly serious. "You won't tell," he said again, just as quietly as before. "That you've seen the Gray Fox. That I'm in the Thieves Guild. I'd figured you'd known already that me and Dar'vaba aren't your regular scoundrels."

"Y-Yes…"

She didn't like him when he was being serious. It was terrifying.

"Yeah. Figured. So you won't tell. And if you do, I'll find out and I won't be happy. And Dar'vaba won't be happy. And don't worry—he knows people that could take good care of you if you told."

The menace in his voice slashed her like a blade.

Lily simply stared at him in frozen horror. "What…?" she whispered breathlessly.

Jake cocked his head to the side like a puppy. It almost made him look innocent—and that was a terrifying thought. "Dar'vaba? He's not in my guild. I'm the only thief he can stand. If you tell _anyone_—whether it's your precious Hero of Kvatch or the newest Septim—what you've just seen, my housecat's friends will take care of you. Sithis. The Night Mother. Lucien Lachance. The Black Hand. Ring any bells?"

Her throat closed up again and she barely choked, "The D-Dark Brotherhood."

An icy smile formed on his lips. "Smart girl. So you won't tell."

Lily hastily shook her head. "I w-won't tell."

Jake reached up and gently patted her cheek, and his customary smile was back. "You suck at hiding," he said much more cheerfully. "Take some lessons next time you want to hide from the best thieves in Tamriel. The Gray Fox wasn't at all pleased that someone was out here."

Stunned at his sudden change in mood from positively murderous to happy with all in the world, Lily could do little more than stare at him. Jake sighed and rolled his eyes, taking control of the situation. He hooked an arm around hers and forced her to walk with him. She stumbled ungracefully along beside him, still trying to wrap her head around what he said.

He was a thief.

Dar'vaba was an assassin.

Thieves Guild.

Dark Brotherhood.

Dear gods, she knew how to pick them.

Lily looked up at the dark black sky and thought, _Sorry, Akatosh. I guess Martin, Ilav and Oleta were the only things keeping me in line. Look who I keep company with now._

For some reason, she pictured the old god smiling and laughing. It comforted her a bit, which she needed, especially when she heard Jake say, "C'mon, let's go to the Bloated Float. Dar'vaba's waiting, and I can buy you a drink." He must a have caught her expression, for he added quickly, "Uh, not like that. I'm being friendly. Not like that!" he added again and swore softly.

Lily's smile was wavering, but still genuine. "I forgive you, Jake. If you've gone all this time without really robbing me and without Dar'vaba killing me, I think I can trust you… a little."

He grinned; she could see his teeth in the torchlight above them. "A little's better than nothing. Don't expect a warm welcome from Dar'vaba though. He doesn't like anyone but me. And Lucien. And the Brotherhood. But still, he hates you. And don't tell him you know that he's an assassin, okay? It's really supposed to be a secret thing."

"He doesn't… hide it well," Lily mentioned, warming up a little in body and mind; Jacob was standing close to her, arm in arm, and the night was chilly.

"Eh, it's all he's known. Do you know what I think?"

"I probably don't want to know," she muttered.

Jake chuckled and nudged her with one elbow. "Just when you were warming up to me… _tsk_," he clucked, shaking his head. "Seriously though, I think, since I really am such a major factor in your life, you should tell me what it was like to be a priestess."

Lily nearly hurt her neck when she glanced over at him. "What?" she said stupidly. He watched her with a look that seemed to say that he was completely serious about it. "Oh… uh… like what?"

"What did you do? I mean, I really have no clue. I've only ever really met Daedra worshippers, and they aren't the friendliest bunch."

Lily's mouth twisted when he spoke, and she thought of the poor people at the shrine of Clavicus Vile. "Well… in the morning, we have a service. We preach. Well, I didn't, or at least I didn't very often. My friend did. And we healed those who were sick, and gave advice to those who needed it. And if we weren't busy, my friends would teach me about other magic than Restoration, even though the primate of the chapel didn't like it…" She swallowed a particularly nasty lump in her throat. "And what's it like being a thief?"

"Scary. But that good kind of scary where you think you'll get caught, you know there's a chance, but you really just don't give a shit because you're good at what you do," he said softly, as if in a dream. Lily smiled somewhat. While she didn't approve of his choice in careers, she was always happy when she saw someone who loved what they did. "Your heart is beating like crazy, and you can hear _everything _around you, almost like, just for those moments when you had to steal something, the gods gave you superhuman senses. And once you have what you came for it's like…" A sudden grin split his face. "Hell, it's like the best damn skooma in the Empire, _before _you crash and the lows kick in."

Lily snorted with laughter and they stopped walking, not far from the floating inn, the name of which appeared to be the Bloated Float. "I'm afraid I've never had skooma."

"Don't start. Really hard to quit," he advised, letting go of her arm. A gust of cold air suddenly hit her side, and she was almost sad that he wasn't beside her anymore. Almost. After all, he was still a man of ill repute.

Jacob tilted his head to the side again and contemplated her. Uncomfortable with his gaze, Lily looked out at the water surrounding them. The glassy black surface made fear trickle to her bones. After her brief, watery adventure in Anvil, she had gained a sudden terror of such an innocent-looking thing.

"Kvatch, right?" Jake's voice distracted her from one fear, only to push her towards an agonizing memory. "You were there when it burned?"

Lily shut her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You know, you mutter 'Akatosh' under your breath a lot," he mentioned, striding towards the entrance to the Bloated Float. Lily frowned and followed him. "Or when you don't actually say it, you mouth it. You don't come across as the really religious sort, but I guess it's stuck to you, huh?"

She nodded and brushed her hair from her face. The tavern was rowdy and loud, and seemed like an interesting place, and the light from the windows caught in Jake's dark hair, lighting up strands of gold and red hidden in the browns. "I haven't set foot in a chapel since… that day," she murmured, "but I'll always be a priestess."

Jake strode across the gangplank and rested a hand on the door. "Yeah. One day, when I'm in the Imperial Prison for robbing the clothes off the Emperor while he slept, I'll still be a thief. Oh, right, the future emperor's your friend," he added, grinning at her.

Lily blinked in confusion. "Did I do something?"

"Do all redheads blush like that? Gods, you'd be better than the lighthouse."

She scowled and rubbed her cheeks, though that probably only made them redder. Why would she be blushing?

Jacob seemed to read her expression and his grin widened. "Stop imagining him naked, Lil. Come on, Dar'vaba doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Lily gawked at after him as he pushed open the door to the Float and held it for her, and she followed after firmly implanting into her mind an image of a mud crab dancing on the Gray Fox's head.

Needless to say it worked, and made her snort when she stifled a laugh.

Jake eyed her warily, but didn't question why she made the sound as she slid down the gangplank and stepped into the Bloated Float. Inside, there were some Bosmer and Nords, Altmer and Imperials, a couple of Orcs and even a man who was dressed in extremely fancy Legion gear. In a corner table of the cramped ship-turned-inn was Dar'vaba.

Lily saw Jacob wink at him after glancing at the Legion soldier when he stepped into the inn. She had no clue what _that _was about, but she thought better than to ask as she followed him through the chatty crowd to where the Khajiit sat.

The bright green eyes narrowed considerably when she and Jake arrived. "Why is this one here? And why is she so red?"

Those simple words immediately made the flush worsen. Mud crab dancing on the Gray Fox's head, mud crab dancing on the Gray Fox's head…

Dar'vaba glanced over at Jake. "Cub, why does she mutter about the Gray Fox?"

There was an indignant grunt from the middle of the room, and Lily turned just in time to see the white-and-gold armoured soldier push toward them. "Why are you talking about the Gray Fox?" he demanded harshly.

Lily flinched and retreated a few steps. Dar'vaba remained silent and simply glowered at this newcomer. Jake snickered and said, "Oh hello again, Lex."

The Imperial glared daggers at him. "Jacob Bercarius. I thought you were scared out of town."

"Hell no. I'll always be here somewhere."

The soldier shoved past Lily, making her tumble with absurd grace toward a slightly inebriated Nord man. He caught her and helped her on her feet without making any drunken advances; everyone nearby the corner table was staring at the hushed scene.

"I _know _you're in the Thieves Guild, Bercarius," this man, Lex, snarled as he leaned in close to Jake. "Just you wait. Soon I'll have enough to prove it, and you'll be behind bars for a good long time."

Jacob merely smirked in response, and glanced over the soldier's shoulder to meet Lily's gaze. She squeaked and clapped her hands to her mouth. Mud crab dancing on the Gray Fox's head…

"I'll be waiting, Lex," Jake replied smoothly. "But the Gray Fox isn't here. Go search somewhere else."

The soldier snorted and turned, leaving them alone. As soon as he was gone, Lily hurriedly plopped down on a chair opposite Jake. "Who was _that_?" she asked nervously, watching him speak with an Orc on the other side of the tavern.

"Hieronymus Lex. He's hell-bent on taking the Thieves Guild down in time for tea." Jake's dark eyes followed the soldier for a few minutes before he shook his head and returned to his company at the table. "Dar'vaba, Lil saw me with the Fox today."

She couldn't believe he was speaking so freely about that when crazy Hieronymus Lex was only metres away.

The cat growled softly in his throat. "And she knows? You do not care?"

"She won't tell."

Dar'vaba nodded stiffly. He didn't believe his friend. "You never said why she mutters of him."

"Well, I can't say I know." Jake gave Lily an expectant look. "Why are you muttering about the Gray Fox?"

Too mortified to explain, Lily said blankly, "Mud crab dancing on the Gray Fox's head."

Bercarius laughed and Dar'vaba merely watched her with that same expression—slightly scowling, but mostly deadpan.

"Never tell your friend that you pictured him in the buff, Lil," Jake advised wisely. "I don't think he'd appreciate it."

"No, I can't imagine he would," she said squeakily. The thought of Martin finding out… she felt her face grow even hotter.

She was vaguely aware that Jacob was laughing, and that Dar'vaba was making a noise that _could _be interpreted as laughter. "Look! Her face is as red as her hair!"

Lily groaned and dropped her head on the table, burying it with her arms.

Her first day in the Imperial City had gone a lot differently than she imagined.

Ugh, _imagined_. She moaned again, which only brought more laughter from her dark companions.

_Mud crab dancing on the Gray_—

Oh, to hell with it.

—

The next day, after being persuaded to stay overnight at the Bloated Float by Jake and Dar'vaba—well, the Khajiit had just grunted when Jake suggested it—Lily went to explore the waterfront in the daytime. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the water didn't look so evil now, but she still wasn't keen on hopping in like she had in Anvil.

Still, the gentle lapping waves were a pretty grey-blue, and she couldn't help the wave of giddy childishness that washed over her. She made herself comfortable on the end of the walkway near the shabby neighbourhood and pulled off her boots, sticking her feet into the water. For all that she knew, Jake and Dar'vaba were still inside the Bloated Float, and she was one of the few people outside enjoying the day.

The water was pleasantly cold on her feet, contrasting with the warmth of the morning. She kicked her feet in lazy circles, thinking of the night before. Jake had been good to his word and he had bought her a drink—with no funny business attached, too. She was careful not to drink anymore, though, just in case. She quickly learned as the night went on that Dar'vaba, like many Khajiit, had a bit of a weak spot for sugary things, including certain alcohols, and he was under the table in no time flat. Jacob last a bit longer before leaping to his feet and declaring that he was going to stop the Daedra by kicking their Prince's sorry ass. That was when he fell on the table, and everyone glared at Lily like she was supposed to take care of them. The bouncer did the work for her.

She also learned that the almighty Daedra-kicker recovered quickly from drinking. While in her room, the thought of Martin on their last day together in Kvatch kept coming back to her, and she spent an hour or more sobbing into her pillow before Jake wandered into her room and simply sat there beside her. He didn't speak once.

To her surprise, she felt better with someone at her side.

That brief recovery didn't last, however. Her companions probably had wicked hangovers, and would no doubt spend the morning in the Float.

"Hm, can't say I expected to see you here," a friendly voice said behind her. "Having fun?"

Lily shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand and turned awkwardly to see Baran standing there, decked out in mithril with his katana at his hip. "So much fun," she confirmed. "How was business with Baurus?"

"Oh, about as fine as it can be. I've got to head back to Cloud Ruler Temple soon, but I really don't want to." He sighed and crouched beside her. "Jauffre can be pretty demanding, but he's a nice old guy. And Martin seems like he'd be great too, but he's always chest-deep in books about the Mythic Dawn and Daedric Princes. The other Blades are busy too. It's a pretty miserable place."

Lily pulled her feet from the water and sat parallel to the gently sighing waves. "Martin _is _a great person," she assured him, still holding her hand over her face. The morning sunlight was comfortably warm, but surprisingly bright. "I knew him for three years before you stole him. He's probably just got a lot on his mind."

"I can imagine. You still wandering the City on your own?"

"Would you believe that I'm with those two jerks who snuck up on us yesterday?"

"Oh, gods."

Lily laughed and rolled her eyes. "Well… they're not that bad," she admitted, to herself and to him. "One isn't, at least. The other really hates me."

She felt his eyes on her for some time, so she let her gaze drift over the lake around them. This was an extremely beautiful part of the province. Cleaner than Anvil, richer than Skingrad… but she still needed to explore the other counties before saying this was the best.

A few minutes of peaceful silence passed. Finally, Baran mentioned, "Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?"

Lily felt herself frown, and he immediately added, "I'm sorry, it just seemed like it. I don't want to be rude."

"No… it's all right. I have been, actually. About Martin, if you can believe it," she mumbled, feeling her frown deepen.

"I can."

She nodded awkwardly. "Okay, so it's more believable than I thought."

Baran sighed softly and stood up, holding a hand to her. She grabbed it and thought distractedly how weird it was to feel leather and mithril instead of human flesh. He pulled her to her feet and handed her the boots she had discarded. "I've got an idea," he said slowly. "It's probably a bad idea. In fact, I _know _it's a bad idea. I think Jauffre might kill me, find a necromancer to resurrect me, then kill me again. But I'll score some brownie points with the future emperor…"

"Baran," Lily interrupted after tugging her boots back on. "What _are _you talking about?"

He grinned suddenly and grabbed her hands. "Stop exploring the country for a few days. Surely you can leave those scoundrels you were with." His grin widened and small tendrils of excitement and anticipation grew inside her. "Come with me to Cloud Ruler Temple."


	7. Bliss

"Does it always snow up here?" Lily demanded, yanking the scarf down from over her mouth.

Baran blinked snow from his eyes and looked around. "Yeah, pretty much. That's why the Nords love Bruma; it's so much like Skyrim. But I guess you got that when that Nord fellow thought you were a prize in a drinking game."

Lily glowered at him, and he merely smiled innocently in return. "Yes, well, at least I had you there to protect me. I don't know if I like Bruma much."

"Spend a few days there. It'll grow on you. Come on." He covered his face up again and grabbed the reins of his sleek black horse. Lily patted Victor's side, sure that she would lose him in the white storm blowing off the Jerall Mountains, before urging him onwards behind the knight's easily-spottable steed.

She hadn't bothered to say goodbye to Jacob and Dar'vaba in the Imperial City. She had merely accepted Baran's offer with gusto, and after a few days' travel, here they were, climbing the mountain where Cloud Ruler Temple resided.

When they stayed the night in Bruma, she had a feeling she had seen Jake once. But it was just a prickly intuition. He wasn't stalking her.

They navigated slowly through the growing storm, but finally Lily could see a stone fortress in the distance. Little explosions of apprehensive delight popped all through her. Martin was up there. In the past three years, not a day went by when she didn't see him, until the bloodstained dawn when that enthusiastic young knight—who she now knew to be Baran—showed up to steal him away. And that had been over a month ago, too. It felt like so much longer; the days when her thoughts lingered on what happened left her etched with grief and seemed to take ten times the amount of time to suffer through than a normal day.

She rubbed her gloves against her eyes, determined not to cry. In the cold and snow the tears would probably freeze, and _that _would be painful.

She had thought of what they were doing and had cried briefly while stopped in Bruma, and soon found out that Baran wasn't as good at comforting as Jake. The knight had shifted awkwardly when he saw her, tearstained, and shuffled back to the main bar of the inn they were staying at. Crying women undoubtedly made him uncomfortable. She couldn't blame him, really. If he was as young as she thought, then he didn't have much experience around those of the female alignment.

The ride up the mountain was long and tedious. Baran had wisely tied a rope from the back of his saddle to the front of hers so she didn't get lost in foreign land, which was an extremely good idea. She merely had to keep Victor from wandering too much, and keep him at the same pace Baran's black horse was going. Snow whipped around them, making both animals grunt agitatedly, but still they plodded onward.

Lily was blinded by the harsh whiteness of the snow, and she kept her eyes shut unless she absolutely needed them open. Somewhere ahead of her, she heard voices, and she reluctantly pried one eye open to see Baran leaning over his horse to talk to an armoured man near a large gate. They were at the fortress. This was Cloud Ruler Temple.

She urged Victor closer to Baran in time to see the man standing by the gate shake his head timidly. "What's wrong?" she called over the winds.

Baran ignored her for the time being. "Get Jauffre! I'm not going in!" she heard him yell; just like her, he was shouting to be heard, not because he was upset.

The guard nodded and turned, heading through the thick doors. Lily peered to the side and saw that there was a long set of stone stairs and a little courtyard, and at the top was a building of Akaviri architecture. A few more men in the strange grey and gold armour were pacing battlements above them, and one was spotting as two more sparred. She watched the guard enter the building, and then she forced her horse closer to the knight's.

"What's going on?" she demanded, pulling the scarf off her mouth again.

"He doesn't think it's wise letting you in! I mean, he would, but he's got orders!" he replied, gesturing violently to where the guard had gone. "He's going to get Jauffre, who's going to kill me for telling you and bringing you here!"

Lily hated that she couldn't tell if he was serious or not, so she covered the lower half of her face with the scarf and decided not to ask.

Soon, the guard returned with yet another in the foreign armour. This one was bald with a tiny supply of white hair that was pulled back into a short ponytail. The two stomped up to her and Baran, and his mere presence radiated strength… and anger.

Baran seemed to find the need to dismount, so Lily followed, albeit a little clumsily. Holding tightly to her horse's reins, she slunk up behind her travelling companion as the two men came to a stop. The guard returned to his place, but the old man stood before Baran, scowling as though possessed.

"What is the meaning of this, Baran?" he demanded harshly. "Why have you brought her here? This is absolutely preposterous, you know! We are trying to _save _our country's future emperor, not bring in strange women who could be _assassins_." He shot her a poisonous glare, and Lily felt as though the snow suddenly stuck to her boots and froze her to the path.

"She's not—"

"How do you know she isn't working for the Dark Brotherhood? The Morag Tong? Maybe even the Camonna Tong!"

"If she was with the Camonna Tong, wouldn't she be Dunmer?" Baran asked respectfully. "I doubt a crime syndicate based in Morrowind—sorry, _Vvardenfell_—really cares about an illegitimate heir."

"You don't know that, Baran. You don't know! They hate outlanders, and getting rid of the heir would help Morrowind escape from the Empire." Another glower was sent Lily's way. "This was extremely foolish, Baran! I don't know what was going through your head when you thought to bring a stranger to the Temple, where we're keeping the heir _secret _from the rest of the Empire, but it certainly won't happen again! Send her back to Bruma! And you _will _do as I say, Baran," he added darkly.

Lily shuffled a few steps forward. "Can I say something?" she asked timidly.

"No! Keep your mouth shut, woman!"

Lily rolled her eyes and muttered, "Oh, Akatosh. Look," she said, louder. "I'm not working for the Dark Brotherhood, and those other two you mentioned. I'm worship A—"

"Worship?" This seemed to have the exact opposite effect she intended. Jauffre looked between her and Baran, absolutely horrified. "A Daedra worshipper? _That is even worse!_"

"Jauffre?" A hand rested on the old man's shoulder, and Lily's heart did a sloppy back flip. Martin was standing behind the old man, flinching against the snow. "What's going on?"

"Baran brought a Daedric worshipper into our midst! Get back to the Temple, sir, before you freeze!"

Lily saw Martin shake his head softly, and she remembered that he had seemed so sensitive about Daedra worshippers. She doubted he told the old grandmaster about his worshipping past, if he had one.

"Have you even heard them out?" Martin let go of the old man and stood beside him, holding his arms around him against the cold. He was only wearing the simple grey robes of the chapel with sad excuses for shoes on his feet. "Baran, explain."

Baran nudged her arm, and she realized that Martin hadn't recognized her yet because she was drenched in scarves and cloaks, with a hat covering her telltale orange hair. "I think she should."

Lily cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Jauffre, sir," she said respectfully through the scarf, "I'm not a Daedra worshipper; I'm a priestess of Akatosh." She pulled the scarf down again and exhaled shakily. "Martin, it's Lily."

Martin stared at her for a moment before he realized what was happening. His eyes popped open and he hurriedly grabbed her arm. "Come, you must be freezing!"

Lily rather thought that _he _would be the one who was freezing, as she was bundled warmly. Still, she huddled close to him and they watched Jauffre silently.

The old man brushed snow from his bald head and glowered at them. "Apparently you know Martin. Wonderful. Martin, you should get back inside. Bring her if you must. Amadeus, switch shifts; maybe with Marian, as the snow is letting up." The guard behind them, at the gate, nodded slightly and turned into the fortress. Jauffre's dark gaze moved finally to the mithril-clad man standing by the horses. "Baran, take care of those horses and come inside. You and Baurus have a report to give, and you have some explaining to do."

"Yes, sir." Baran smiled and touched Lily's arm. "Go on in."

Grinning ecstatically, Lily let Martin pull her through the gates and up the long flight of stairs. When they were halfway up—gods, there were a lot of stairs—Martin turned toward her with a curious frown on his face and asked, "Why _are _you here?"

So she launched into an explanation of what she did to lead her here—leaving Anvil after a month, Skingrad after a few days, being detoured to Imperial City instead of Chorrol, meeting Baran, and his explanation of what was going on. She left out Jake and Dar'vaba; she had a feeling he wouldn't be happy that she spent any length of time with them.

When she was babbling on about the first time she met Baran in the Imperial City, Martin interrupted her softly. "So he just went and told you about _everything?_"

"Well, probably not everything." She was slightly out of breath from the hike, but they had finally made it to the top of the stairs. The Blades sparring nearby had paused and were watching them curiously. Lily shrugged and said, "He probably left some things out. But he mentioned how he came to be a Blade, the attack on the Priory, the Amulet being stolen, and he said the name of the assassins… the, um… the Mythic Dawn!"

Martin chuckled softly and ushered her through the door of the Akaviri temple. "So he told you essentially everything. Why?"

A blast of warmth smacked into her when they stepped into the building. It was spacious inside, with a few tables—one of which was laden down with books; this had to be Martin's—and a large fire at the end, where a Blade was crouched precariously close to the dancing flames. There were two more doors leading out of the hall, and she figured they went to sleeping and training areas.

As he helped unravel her from the cloaks and scarves, Lily replied, "He said I was trustworthy, since I'm a friend of yours. And he keeps calling me 'Sister,' so that might have something to do with it. Priests are trustworthy," she added in a murmur.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Martin's face. "Of course," he muttered, bundling her things up. "Come on up to the fire." He led the way and draped her clothes on the floor near the hearth so they would dry.

Lily followed, glad for the warmth, and stole a glance at the woman kneeling before the fire. She was extremely beautiful, Lily noticed, with thick, shiny blonde hair that she kept up in an elegant twist, and her green eyes shimmered in the firelight. She was wearing the armour of the Blades, same as everyone else, but something seemed different about her. She was gazing at the fire as if in longing and pure ecstasy. And she was dangerously close to the flames.

Martin seemed to notice the last one as well. He gently pulled her back a bit, and she didn't protest. "Marian, you shouldn't be so close. Remember what happened last time?"

She didn't reply to his question. Instead, she poked her head closer, never blinking the whole time. "Have you ever actually looked at fire? It's always so different. Did you know that each fire has its own personality? This one is nice. Not at all like the ones at home. Those are cruel fires." Her voice was cultured and soft, though there was a strange accent and detachment to it.

Lily felt her jaw drop. "What…?" she whispered, gawking at Martin.

He sighed and looked down at the beautiful Imperial. "She's an incredible fighter, but she's a little… lost."

"Apparently." Lily crouched beside the woman, who didn't take her eyes from the fire for one minute. "Hello, Marian. I'm Lily."

Finally the woman blinked. She glanced over at Lily and smiled somewhat. "Hello. Have you seen this fire? It's so kind and friendly." Her gaze returned to the fire and the blissful smile came back.

"When she's not out in rain or snow, or around fires, she's completely normal," Martin mentioned. "That was stupid of Jauffre to suggest she go out on guard next. The storm may have let up, but it's still snowing."

Marian's face suddenly went blank. She turned and stared in utter horror at Martin, and he flinched as if she had hit him. "Snowing?" she breathed, terrified. "It's snowing?"

"No, Marian," Martin assured hurriedly. Lily watched with a frown as he helped Marian to her feet. "It's not snowing. That was just a slip of the tongue."

She seemed barely reassured by his words. Her teeth were clenched on her lower lip, and she was trembling visibly. "It's not snowing," she mumbled to herself. "It's not snowing. My lord wouldn't let it snow."

Martin patted her arm toward one of the doors to the left and right of the heart. "Go rest, Marian."

The woman stared nervously at him before nodding jerkily and stumbling away, still muttering about snow.

As soon as she was gone, Lily blurted, "What was wrong with her?"

He shook her head and pulled two chairs from a nearby table toward them. After sitting, he rubbed his arms absently and said, "According to Jauffre, she's been here for a few months. The Emperor and some Blades had been doing _something _in the Nibenay Basin, and they came across some particularly angry wolves. A strange woman, our dear Marian, showed up and helped them, and the Emperor was so pleased he made her a Blade, and she's been here since. They don't know where she came from, but she's a good fighter, so she's an asset."

"Couldn't someone just ask her where she came from?"

Martin ran his hands over his face. "I did, when I first got here and saw her when it was raining. It alarmed me so much that I tried to talk to her, and all she said was that she was from the Isles."

Lily frowned and scooted closer to him and the fire. "Like Summerset Isle?"

"I don't think so. From what I know, nobody in Summerset Isle is obsessed with fire or terrified by precipitation. I have my… guesses," he mentioned, dropping his voice as Jauffre and Baran stepped into the hall. "About where her home is, but I haven't voiced them to anyone. Jauffre would no doubt get rid of her if he believed me."

"What do you think?" Lily asked, keeping her voice low as well.

Martin watched the old grandmaster and the knight until they vanished through one of the doors. Once sure that they were the only ones in the room, Martin leaned forward and murmured, "She's blissfully insane, is fascinated by things in Cyrodiil as if she hasn't seen them before—like horses, she loves them—and often refers to someone she calls her lord. I think she's Manic."

Well, that did nothing to ease Lily's curiosity. "Manic?" she repeated.

"I think she's from Mania, the imaginative side of Prince Sheogorath's Shivering Isles."

"Oh, my." Lily glanced back where the pretty Blade had gone. "Don't tell Jauffre," she whispered. "What other proof do you have?"

"Her clothes, her strange accent, her fighting style, her weapons, and her armour… the last is the strangest. I can't even describe it," he said, before she could ask. "You'd have to see it to know that it's nothing from this realm."

"It looked fairly normal to me."

"Well, that's her Blades armour. The armour she has in the chest in the rooms… that's what she had with her when the Emperor found her." He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "She's the least of our concerns, though." His voice was muffled, and Lily had to strain to discern what he said. "This is ridiculous. Tell me what you've been up to since you left Kvatch. Letters can't show me what you've seen."

Lily watched him briefly. He seemed so much older and worn than when she had seen him last. It made tiny healed wounds in her heart rip once again. To distract him from the trials of his new life, she explained the beautiful, coastal Anvil and the people she came to know—though she left out the accidental and purposeful drunkenness and the skooma-dealer—and when she mentioned she found someone with a copy of _A Game at Dinner, _he mentioned that he had found a book she might like, called _Immortal Blood_.

Then she explained the fight with the highwayman and how she survived on her own, and her short adventure in Skingrad. Then the ride to the Imperial City, meeting Baran, and finding him again in the waterfront. And the journey to Bruma—coming across bandits bent on blood that Baran took care of with ease, determinedly trucking on when Baran wanted to take a detour and explore an Ayleid ruin, finally making it to Bruma and being groped by an intoxicated Nord, and then the argument with Jauffre, where she was accused of worshipping Daedra.

Martin chuckled when she mentioned that part of the tale. "I would never see _you_ worshipping Daedric Princes," he muttered, shaking his head and peeking at her through his fingers. His enchanting blue eyes glittered in the firelight, but were dim with exhaustion. "And if you were, it would be one of the half-decent ones, like Azura."

Lily smiled and shook her head. "I may seem obsessed with Nocturnal, but if I had to choose a Prince to worship, it wouldn't be the Night Mistress."

"No, I can't see you thieving on Nocturnal's behalf."

"Goodness, no. Azura it would be, I suppose." Without thinking her next move, she blurted, "And who did you choose?" At his arched brow and slight smile, she felt her face turn scarlet. "Oh! I'm sorry! I'm not trying to be presumptuous—you just seem sensitive about the Princes, and I guessed—"

"You guessed right, don't worry," he assured her gently. Martin ran his hands over his face again before dropping them in his lap and smiling humourlessly at her. "Sanguine."

Lily must have made a disbelieving face, for Martin laughed quietly. "_Sanguine?_" she repeated. "The Daedric Prince of hedonism, debauchery and indulgences?"

"Unless there's another Sanguine, yes."

Lily grunted and pressed her knuckles into her forehead. "I thought you were moral. I was wrong," she said with a giggle. "I would have thought Hermaeus Mora was more for you."

"I don't really care for unending knowledge." There was a tinge of humour to his voice, though outwardly he was serious. "But hedonism, debauchery and indulgences are always intriguing. But disregarding Daedric Princes for the moment," Martin said with a tone that promised an explanation about his time with Sanguine, "it sounds like you have had an interesting time since you left Kvatch."

Lily let her eyes explore the beautiful elaborate hall, and they came to rest on the fire. It was definitely dazzling; she could almost see why Marian was so intrigued by it. The amount of colours in the tongues of flame was incredible: scarlet, crimson, vermillion, gold, cinnabar, and copper, like her hair. But unlike Marian, Lily couldn't' spot the personality of the crackling flames. It seemed like any other fire to the Breton.

She returned her gaze to Martin to see him similarly staring into the hearth. A shadow dominated his features; he was probably thinking about his time with Sanguine. It absolutely floored her to know that someone as soft-spoken and sweet as Martin once associated himself with the Prince of brothels and sins of pleasure.

"And what have you been up to here?" she asked, trying not to think of what he did when he worshipped Sanguine.

Martin made a soft, pondering noise as he looked into the fire. "Reading, mostly." His reply was distant; he was distracted. "Learning more about the Mythic Dawn, and what's expected of me when we get the Amulet of Kings back. You know, the Dragonfires…" He blinked, and the hypnotic trance seemed to be over. "I accepted the truth some time ago—I _am _a Septim, and the heir, but a part of me can't comprehend these new responsibilities. It's all too much for one person to absorb at once."

"You seem to be doing well at it. Baran said all you do is read, so I'd be worried if you hadn't learned anything."

The priest waved a dismissive hand. "Baran wouldn't know what I do. He's never here. Instead, he's exploring old forts, or Ayleid ruins, or Oblivion Gates, or, according to a few other Blades, basking in his growing 'Hero of Kvatch' fan club, the members of which are majorly female."

Lily arched a brow. "I've noticed he can be rather awkward around women."

"Perhaps. Since joining the Blades the only woman he's around for an extended period of time is Marian, and she's most often oblivious to the affections of others." Here, his lips pursed together somewhat, and Lily held back a laugh and an uncomfortable pang.

"I noticed she is rather pretty," she observed.

"Hm, well." Martin moved back in his chair and gazed up at the mantle, where two gleaming katanas hung. "She isn't completely blind to it, I suppose. She just doesn't reciprocate most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"There is rare occasion where… never mind." To Lily's surprise, a faint blush grew on his cheeks. Apparently one wasn't immune to such simple embarrassment after they reached a certain age.

"I'm sure you'll get across to her one day, Martin."

"Hm," he said again. "Are you going to keep wandering Cyrodiil, or are you planning on settling down somewhere?"

Tactful change of subject. Touché, Martin. "We'll see eventually. I still haven't visited Chorrol, Cheydinhal, Bravil or Leyawiin, and I was in Bruma for one night only. If I fall in love with one of them, I might stay, but if not… I would be happy with a nomadic life, now that I've tried it."

"Fall in love," he repeated softly, bitterly. "That can be a dangerous phrase."

"That's what you said about Daedric Princes."

A strange solemnity passed through him, and he looked away. "And I told you so out of experience. I've lived a lot longer than you, Lily. Take advantage of the knowledge of your elders."

"What happened to you?" she asked suddenly. Martin glanced her way, but otherwise didn't move. "You were never this depressing at the chapel. Are you afraid of love? By the gods, Martin, you worshipped _Sanguine_, the Prince that loves _everything_—"

"Everything unholy and impure," he muttered. "It isn't the same."

"So? I don't know you like this. You've changed."

"So have you. But I don't think that matters, unlike you, apparently. Perhaps you think I've changed because I'm tired and listless and absolutely _sick _of reading. Or maybe it's because you finally figured out which Prince I used to be associated with. That might make one's opinion change."

Lily pried her jaw apart and gave him a hard stare. "I got drunk by accident in Anvil," she said. "I drank too much brandy because I'd never had it before. My father never let me drink it at the farm; he thought it was too strong for me."

Martin watched her in silence.

She exhaled shortly before continuing. "I got drunk and threw up on the floor of the most popular inn in the city, in front of sailors, soldiers, paupers and nobles. A few nights later, I got drunk on purpose and managed to keep everything inside, not on the floor. I ended up dancing with a woman who has a fondness for rats."

The corner of his mouth trembled somewhat, but she ignored it.

"And then I picked a fight with a bunch of angry mud crabs, got beat up, and went back to the inn and got drunk on purpose, _again_. A man called Jake tried to take me to my room to…" Lily trailed off when her throat closed up, and she saw that Martin was nobly stifling a smile. "Yes, well, I realized it was the same man who told me to become a priestess, and he didn't get very far after that. I haven't been drunk since, and I can call that stupid man an acquaintance after he stalked me through Skingrad and the Imperial City. How's your opinion of me now?"

He finally smiled, just a bit. "I'm touched that you kept this from me before. Little Lily grew up."

She rolled her eyes and slumped back in her seat. "Oh, you're hopeless."

Martin laughed and leaned toward her. "I know. But I'm not feeling myself because, like I said, I'm tired and sick of reading. That might be what you're seeing. My opinion of you hasn't changed at all; I knew the world would catch up to you after you left the safety of the chapel. Oleta and Ilav and I couldn't keep you in line forever."

Lily sighed and her mouth twisted into a smile. "My opinion of you hasn't changed either, but I'm really embarrassed that I told you that."

"I know—you're blushing." He grinned and brushed a loose lock of hair from her face. "And I'm not afraid of love. I love Oleta, and this province and this Empire and all it stands for, and I love you. I just don't want to see you hurt. You might think you've fallen in love with a city and everything about it," he said, sitting back in his chair, "and you'll have your heart broken when someone you thought you trusted picks your pocket."

His words suddenly put an image of Jake Bercarius in her head, and she shook it to clear the picture away. "I've only had my pocket picked once, and I got back what was taken from me."

"Must've been a bad thief," Martin mentioned.

Lily shook her head as she thought of Jacob. "Nope. Actually, he's a great thief. But he only stole from me to prove a point."

"You were talking to him?"

She looked down at her hands and smiled. "It was Jake."

"The one who tried to—"

"Yes," she interrupted. "And the one who convinced me to be a priestess. I wouldn't have met you if it wasn't for him, so don't be so quick to judge."

Martin opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could come out, a high-pitched wail erupted somewhere nearby.

It felt as though somebody had taken an axe to Lily's head. She shuddered and held her hands over her ears as the shriek continued. It was the cry of somebody who was truly terrified; she hadn't heard a sound like it since Kvatch burned.

Looking over at Martin, she saw that he was staring at the door nearer to Lily. His lips formed a single word.

"Marian."

Lily hadn't even realized they had both leaped to their feet until they opened the front door to the Akaviri temple. The snowstorm had picked up somewhat, and fat snowflakes drifted from grey skies. Blades from all over the fortress were cautiously approaching the source of the screech.

Marian was pressed against the wall of the temple nearby, staring up at the snow in utter horror. Her eyes were wide as she gawped at the frozen precipitation, and never before had Lily seen someone who looked so openly frightened.

Of snow.

By the gods, this woman was insane.

Martin stepped carefully toward her, but his movement blew flakes in her direction. The shriek grew even louder when they touched her, and she stumbled backwards, further under the safety of the roof.

"Marian, it's Martin!" he called, trying to be heard over the panicked screams.

She didn't seem to notice him. She wrapped her arms about herself and shook her head. To Lily's surprise, tears ran in rivers down her face, streaking silver over the perfect porcelain skin. "No, no," the Imperial moaned, doubling over and peering fearfully up at the sky. "No, my lord, how could you let it snow!"

Another snowflake brushed floated by and stuck to her armour. Another scream ripped from her throat.

"Marian!" Martin shouted again. "Marian, come inside!" He reached tentatively forward and took her hand in his. Just as before when he pulled her away from the fire, she was completely unresisting.

Some of the nearby Blades, seeing what Martin was doing, hurried forward and helped take her back inside the Temple, careful to shield her from the blowing flakes.

Lily followed them inside, where they saw Jauffre, Baran, and the Redguard she guessed was Baurus, all standing by one of the side doors, gawking at the procession that filed inside.

"What happened?" Jauffre asked, frowning as the Blades set the whimpering Marian before the fire. "Was she making that racket?"

"Did you tell her to go outside?" Martin inquired calmly.

Lily saw Baran stifle a smile, and Baurus shook his head. Jauffre stiffened somewhat. "Yes, but—"

"Jauffre, you know she's afraid of precipitation." Martin sighed and shook his head somewhat. "I'll take care of her."

The old grandmaster nodded awkwardly before turning and passing back through the door beside him. Baurus followed immediately, but Baran hesitated a moment before turning after his companions.

Lily helped Martin shoo the other Blades away. Once the hall was void of human life save for her, Martin and Marian, the priest eased the Blade closer to the fire, and she stopped sobbing. Little wet sniffles escaped her every few seconds, but the dancing flames caught her attention almost immediately.

Lily sat on the floor beside her and Martin. Marian was trembling visibly, and silent tears still slipped down her cheeks, but the fire seemed to be helping her immensely.

After a few minutes of quiet, she mumbled, "My lord let it snow. My lord was never so malevolent."

"Who is your lord?" Lily asked carefully as she leaned over to see Marian's face.

The big green eyes were filled with anguish and terror as she looked at Lily. She was still beautiful, even in her fear. "My lord Sheogorath," she murmured softly. "This isn't his work. This must be the work of Jyggalag. Time for another Greymarch…"

"You were right," Lily sighed as she watched the Imperial sob quietly. "She's from the Shivering Isles. How'd she get _here _though?"

"I'm sure she'll tell us eventually. Marian," Martin said gently, "this wasn't the work of your lord. You're in Cyrodiil—he has no say in what happens here."

Those innocent green eyes stared at him, unbelieving.

"Has she seen much of Cyrodiil?" Lily wondered. "Maybe she still thinks she's in the Shivering Isles…"

"I can't imagine the realm of a Daedric Prince would look anything like Tamriel," he mused, "but she seems pretty addled. That could be it. And I don't think she's seen much of Cyrodiil at all—maybe the Nibenay Basin and the road up to Bruma, but that's it."

"Nibenay…" Marian repeated in a shuddery whisper. "Nibenay… the lake?"

Lily frowned and glanced at Martin. "Niben Bay?" she said, confused.

Marian seemed to be losing her previous fear of the snow now that she was in the comfort of the fire, and sanity seemed to come back into her eyes. "Niben Bay," she said, almost coherently. "That's where I was told the door led to. That's where one of the unblessed of Passwall said he came from when he arrived in the Isles. I shouldn't have left Bliss. I should have stayed in New Sheoth. The mother of the Gatekeeper said he wouldn't let me back through the Gates of Madness, but Lord Sheogorath told me I would be fine… damn that grummite!" she suddenly exclaimed.

"Marian, how did you come to be in Cyrodiil?" Martin asked curiously.

The woman slowly lifted a hand and reached toward the fire. Neither Lily nor Martin moved to stop her as she touched a finger against the jumping flames. She inhaled sharply and grinned, pulling her hand back and cradling the burned finger in her lap. "This fire is nice," she murmured, smiling at the hearth. "The fires at home are nothing like the fires here."

Lily sighed heavily and shook her head as Martin said, "Marian, maybe you should change out of your armour and take it easy for the rest of the day."

The thin blonde brows arched. "What about Grandmaster Jauffre?"

And Lily was sure that was the most lucid sentence she had heard Marian say since meeting her.

"I'll take care of him. Go get changed, and come back here, all right?"

Marian returned a few minutes later bearing blankets and cushions to sit on, and after she handed them to Martin, Lily felt a little pang of jealousy at the woman's incredible beauty. In her polished Blades armour, she was stunning. And now, in a long, sleek, pale blue dress that had golden hems and many skirts whose fronts were embroidered with shiny gold patterns; a dress that hugged the Imperial's body like a glove, and with a neckline that dipped very low—she was like an insane goddess.

Lily rather hated her for it.

Marian smiled distantly and sat down beside the redhead. "Do you know what this Temple needs? A gatekeeper. I'm sure my lord wouldn't mind commissioning one to keep you safe, Martin."

The priest smiled kindly at her. "We have guards, Marian."

She shook her head and waved a hand, for once ignoring the fire. "No, that won't do. You need a gatekeeper. What do you think, Lily?"

The Breton couldn't help but grin at the innocent, dazed expression on Marian's face, and Martin's tired sigh. "I think a gatekeeper would be a fantastic, idea, Marian."


	8. If it isn't

"Jauffre told me to tell you that you can't stay any longer."

Lily looked up from the book Martin had given her called _Immortal Blood_ to see Baran frowning at his hands in front of her. "And what does Martin think about this?"

"I don't think Jauffre's told him yet."

"Figures." Lily folded the book shut and glanced around the hall. Other than she and Baran near the fire, a Blade was standing guard near the exit of the Temple, and Martin was slouched over a pile of books nearby, though he looked asleep from what she could see. "Did he give you a reason for kicking me out?"

"He doesn't trust you."

"Fair enough," she muttered, climbing to her feet. "I don't trust him either. He's going to kill Martin before he can even become the emperor."

That made a little smile form on Baran's lips. "I won't disagree with you there. I don't think he's slept more than two hours since he got here. But Jauffre, he's not going to send you out alone."

That surprised her. "Oh? I thought he would've forced me out at the point of his sword and kept my horse."

"He's not _that _cruel. No, he's afraid you'll tell someone about what you've learned," Baran explained, awkwardly rubbing his arm. It was the first time Lily had seen him in something other than armour; he wore simple clothes that looked a bit too big for his slender form, and he seemed very out of place without armour on. "And he's worried that Marian's been too cooped up…"

"He's giving me Marian?" she asked, startled.

The knight chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Not exactly. She'll be there to protect you if you need it, and she'll make sure you won't tell anyone about Martin and whatnot, and you'll help her get to know Cyrodiil better. And she seems to like you, so he thought it would be a good match… and that's not all."

"Really? I'm surprised he's giving the heir's would-be assassin help."

"Don't be bitter; he can be a nice old guy. I've got to head out again, so you and Marian will be travelling with me for a bit before… whatever you plan on doing."

"I'll feel richer than an empress with two Blades at my side," Lily remarked, tucking the book under her arm and slinking past him to head for the barracks, where she had been given a bedroll for the night. After she collected her things, she returned to the main hall and saw Baran waiting patiently where she had left him. "So, where's Marian?" she asked as she pulled on a cloak and fastened it about her neck.

"Outside, getting our horses ready. It's not snowing," he mentioned, seeing Lily's incredulous expression. "It's actually kind of nice."

Lily nodded shortly and remained silent as he took the rest of her winter clothes and her book and went to put them in Victor's saddlebags. When he left, she shuffled over to the table laden down with books on the Empire, Daedric Princes and the Mythic Dawn. Somewhere amidst all the paper was Martin. She peeked over a stack of books and saw him sprawled on the table, using his arms as a pillow as he slept.

Lily reached out and tapped his shoulder. "Martin, wake up."

One blue eye cracked open and he smiled somewhat, but otherwise didn't move. "I wasn't asleep."

"Oh. Well, you're good at faking it." Her humour faded and a tiny smile vanished. "If you were awake, I guess you heard Baran and I, then."

He reluctantly pushed himself up and rubbed a hand over his face. "Not really, no. I was trying to sleep, so I didn't really pay attention to anything else. Why?"

"I have to leave," she admitted softly. "Jauffre doesn't think I should stay anymore."

"But… you've only been here one night," he protested weakly.

"I know. I don't want to leave, but… I won't be alone. I'm going with Marian and Baran. I'm sure they'll take me back here if I ask it."

A frown formed on his brow. "I don't see why you can't stay if you already know about what's going on," he mumbled, like a little kid who didn't get his way. "Jauffre can be so unreasonable sometimes. Do you know where he is? I think I've got a bone to pick with him."

"No, Martin." Lily sighed and scooted around the table so she was standing beside him. "I should go. If I stay, I'll just distract you from your, uh… mountain of books. Besides," she added on a lighter note as he scowled at his literary fortress, "I know where you are now, so I can write to you all the time, and I know how to get to you if I want to visit. And I'll be very safe with Baran and Marian."

"You sound far too happy about this."

"I'm not," she assured him. "But I'm tired of sad goodbyes, so I'm going to try to make this as optimistic as possible. Last time we said goodbye, I thought I'd never see you again. Now I know I will. Make the best of it, Martin."

He chuckled emotionlessly. "Where's the Lily that doesn't handle goodbyes well?" He climbed heavily to his feet and lightly ruffled her hair. "At least I had one night with you."

"Excuse me?" an indignant voice said from behind them.

Lily glanced back to see the old grandmaster standing near the side door by Martin's table. Surprisingly enough, the man wasn't glowering or frowning; he was simply looking between the priest and priestess with raised brows.

"Hm, nice interpretation, Jauffre," Martin remarked, winking. He wrapped an arm around Lily's shoulders, and she sighed when she felt her cheeks grow warm. Damn that she blushed easily.

"I gather you heard, then."

"Lily told me. Thank you for sending her off with Marian and Baran, at least."

"Ah, yes, about that." Jauffre turned his gaze to Lily. "You are under no obligation to remain with Baran; he has orders to fulfill, and an adventurer's mindset, so he will undoubtedly wander often. But stay with Marian, for her good as well as yours."

Lily felt blessed that this flush hadn't lasted long. Giving the old man a long stare, she said, "And the good of the Blades."

"I'd call it the good of secrecy and the Empire myself, miss. But yes, that too." He copied her stare, and she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. "I suppose I can trust you enough, miss. Martin is still alive—and that's what counts."

"I wouldn't dream of killing him," she said flatly, leaning into Martin's one-armed embrace. "I rather like him alive." Suddenly remembering Baran's words, she added, "And if I killed him, you could always find a necromancer to resurrect him."

Jauffre cringed, and Lily felt Martin tremble with suppressed laughter. "Sir, you choose odd companions," the old man mentioned.

This time, Martin did utter a soft chuckle. "I know. I wouldn't trade her for the world, though."

"And that will be yours soon as Baran gets the Amulet back," Jauffre remarked quietly, arching one eyebrow. "You can keep both. Excuse me; I have to talk to Baurus." He gave a stiff bow and wound past the tables, leaving through the front door of the Temple.

Left alone other than the guard by the door, Lily turned and wrapped her arms around Martin's waist, burying her face into his chest. "I'd rather you stay alive without the help of a necromancer, so be careful, would you?" she said into his robes.

"I don't think I'll be hurt, unless this table breaks under the weight of books and crushes me. I'd warn _you _to be careful, but you've got two Blades with you, one of whom is the Hero of Kvatch. I think you'll be fine."

More simple nothings were murmured between them, but they both knew they couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. Lily tried not to think of their farewells at Kvatch, though they seemed to be going through the same motions as that gloomy day—he said, "I love you," and she responded with, "Yeah, well, I love you more"—though it was distinctly different in that there were no tears this time around. And after kissing her quickly, Martin sent Lily off without another word.

Baran hadn't lied—it _was _nice out. Pale grey clouds loomed in from the north, but the sun was shining and the snow from the day before was melting slowly—though it would probably be replaced with more soon, as it was the month of Frostfall already.

The knight and the insane Blade were already waiting for her in the courtyard in front of the Temple doors, each on their own horse, with Victor standing silently between them.

"Said your goodbyes?" Baran asked as Lily approached. She nodded as she climbed onto her horse. "Well, I guess this is it then. You two can stay with me as long as you want—I've got to do something for the Blades, but I can't imagine I'll get around to it right away."

"Sticking with you sounds like a safe plan," Lily said, grabbing up Victor's reins. "As long as Marian doesn't mind," she added, stealing a glance at the Imperial woman.

Marian shook her head and absently fixed a loosened lock of shiny blonde hair. "I don't mind. I will follow you wherever, Lily." Just like Baran, she was dressed in simple clothes, though these were unlike the strange blue dress she wore the previous night in that they were simple clothes definitely originating from Cyrodiil.

Baran beamed; the smile seemed to shine like the sun, and Lily felt the stifled anguish of leaving Martin again melt away. "It'll be good having companions with me for once. I was getting bored of travelling on my own. Shall we get a move on, then?"

He pulled on his reins and led his big black horse down the steep stairs to the gates of the Temple, and Lily and Marian followed. The blonde moved at a leisurely pace at the back of the group, but Lily urged Victor forward until she was beside Baran. "Where exactly are we getting a move on _to_?" she asked curiously.

Baran called a greeting to the guard at the gates before replying. "I don't know. Wherever Malatu takes us, I guess." He lovingly patted the neck of his sleek horse. "Got a good deal for him in Cheydinhal," he explained, smiling at Lily. "He was pre-owned; his name means 'truth' in the language of the Ayleids, according to his first owner. Fastest horses in the Empire, these black ones."

Lily admired the big animal in approval. "Good for running away from bandits on, eh, Victor?" she said to her own steed. "Or murderous highwaymen, for that matter."

The knight snorted. "I don't run from bandits or highwaymen. Maybe I should've invested in a paint horse," he mused, glancing back at Marian, who was plodding along behind them on one of the animals in question. "I wouldn't be running from anyone on one of those."

"You could always swap Malatu for a paint horse in Bruma. I'm sure you'd get a good deal."

Baran merely laughed in response, and continued down the narrow road to Bruma.

Lily remained just behind him, admiring the beautiful view the Jerall Mountains boasted of the Imperial province. Beautiful grasslands speckled with old ruined forts turned to forests; the crumbling white remains of Ayleid buildings practically glowed between trees; and far off in the distance, Blackwood reigned in the south.

"What is that?" Marian's soft voice came from nearby, and Lily turned to see a frown on the Imperial's alabaster face, with her bright green eyes locked on something far ahead.

Lily followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at the White Gold Tower of the Imperial City. "It's the home of the Empire," Lily said. "It's called the White Gold Tower. Martin will live there once he's crowned."

Marian stared at it a moment longer before blinking and looking away. "My lord's palace is far grander, though that looks like a comfortable place."

"I'm sure it is."

Lily felt the woman's gaze on her, but she continued looking forward, carefully steering Victor down the slope behind Baran. "Martin spoke of you before you went to the Temple," Marian mentioned. Lily was surprised at the lack of Sheogorath references, but she didn't let it show. "He told me about the day he met you, when he first arrived here."

Lily pressed her lips together and rode in silence.

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"Hm." Marian was quiet for a few moments, before adding, "So, you're prone to blushing even now?"

Lily sighed heavily and gave Marian something that could only be classified as 'a look.' "Yes. Does it matter if I blushed when I met him?"

"I was only wondering."

"Fine. If we're only wondering, how in Oblivion did you come to be in Cyrodiil?"

Marian frowned a little. "I lived in Bliss, did I say before? Bliss is the Manic side of New Sheoth, but I'm not Manic. Well, I am," she added, losing the frown to a small, distant smile that perfectly matched her innocent, childish and distant voice. "But my grandmother is Demented. She's from Crucible. She has armour. And weapons. She gave them to me. I was bored of New Sheoth, so I got permission from my lord Sheogorath to go through the Gates of Madness into the Fringe."

Of course, none of this meant anything to Lily.

"Lord Sheogorath told me I would be able to cross back through the Gates into Mania after I did whatever I planned on doing in the Fringe. I went to Passwall, and I met the people. I just wanted to see what they were like. I was bored of Bliss. The fires there were too familiar. The fires in Passwall were different somehow—they still had the same personalities as those in Mania and Dementia, but there was something else. It was warmer, and friendlier. That was when a man told me he was from a place called Nibenay. He said he found an island when he was swimming, and fell through a portal into the Fringe. He didn't know how to get back, and he wasn't blessed by Lord Sheogorath, so he was stuck to the Fringe.

"His words meant nothing to me, so I went to explore the Fringe. It is a bizarre combination of Mania and Dementia, you know. I don't like Dementia. It's too dark."

"Ah," Lily murmured as Marian gave her a look like she should agree. "Of course. Then what?"

"I was far from Passwall, near a table and chairs, and I saw a grummite. It attacked me, and as I was going to fight it, it tackled me and I fell."

"You fell."

A strange look passed over Marian's face, like she fell into a trance. "No. I fell but I didn't fall. I passed through emptiness. I wasn't in the Fringe, but I opened my eyes to a place that _looked _like the Fringe, but it was on a small island, and around the island were things I'd never seen before. There was a man there. He tried to attack me. I ended up in water. It was so _different_. The water in Bliss tastes like amber. The water I fell in tasted like fish and salt. It was foul, and almost as bad as the water in Crucible that tastes like madness."

"And then you met the Emperor and became a Blade," Lily muttered, mostly to herself. "Marian, do you know where you are now?"

Marian screwed up her face. "Martin said I'm in Cyrodiil, but that's not part of the Isles, so I don't know where I am."

"You aren't in the Isles anymore. It sounds like somebody opened a door from the Fringe, or whatever, to Cyrodiil. We're in a different realm. Sheogorath isn't here, none of that is here. No Daedric Prince rules here."

This seemed to bewilder the woman. "No Daedric… so there aren't any golden saints or dark seducers?"

Not knowing what those were, Lily simply said, "No."

"I'm not in Oblivion?"

"No. You're in Nirn. Tamriel."

Marian was in denial still, judging by the expression she wore. "Is the island still there?"

Lily licked her lips. She hadn't heard of any island in Niben Bay, but then she hadn't really paid any attention to such things during her travels. She had been far too preoccupied with fighting off highwaymen and being stalked by professional thieves and assassins to care about a portal to the Shivering Isles.

"Yes," she replied uncertainly. "I'm sure it is."

The twist at the back of Marian's head bobbed as she nodded. "Good. I want to go home—but after the Greymarch ends."

"Ladies!" Baran shouted. Lily looked away from Marian, surprised to see that he was already far ahead of them. "Hurry up, would you? If you're going to stick with me, try to keep up at least!"

As Marian dug her heels into the flanks of her paint horse, she gave Lily a confused frown. "Are all the men of this place so irritable?"

"Well… not all of them."

Marian grinned slyly. "I see," was all she said, before she trotted ahead to catch up to Baran.

—

The afternoon was essentially silent until the graveyard quiet was interrupted by a high-pitched whistle. Lily barely had time to frown before something long and slim shot past her face, stirring her hair in its wake.

She gawked at Baran, who was already out of his saddle and crouched on the ground, katana in hand. "What just—" she started to ask, but something yanked her arm and she tumbled to the dirt road with a squawk.

A flare of pain instantly shot through her side, and she hissed against it, but a white hand slapped over her mouth, stopping her from making any more noise. Marian stared down at her with wide owl eyes; Lily knew she was being silently told to keep quiet, and she was more than happy to oblige.

Marian slowly removed her hand, and she reached up to her horse, who was standing in boredom beside Victor. The long, slim fingers wrapped around the hilt of a sword that was buried beneath saddlebags, and ever so slowly, she pulled it from its sheath. It was long and evil, a murky grey with spikes on its hilt and pommel. It was nothing that Lily had ever seen before.

It was madness, simply enough. Marian's grandmother's Demented weapon.

Lily jumped with surprise when the icy hilt was pressed into her hand. She gave Marian a pleading look, and the woman whispered, "Use it, and I'll feed you to the scalons."

Lily nodded immediately. Apparently she was being used as a pack horse then. She watched in silence, gripping the hilt tightly, as Marian reached up again and removed an equally spiky, evilly curved bow, followed by a quiver filled with strange arrows. Something scuffed the dirt beside Lily, and she noticed that Baran had backed up to them, sword held comfortably in his right hand. He gave Marian a nod, and she very slowly stood as she notched an arrow into the bow and pulled back the string.

A shout came from up ahead. The menacing sound made ice water replace Lily's blood, and sweat on her palms almost made her drop the sword in her hand.

Marian released the arrow with a _twang!_ A whistle, a thud, a bark, and snarls of threats and anger followed. The Imperial quickly fitted another arrow and loosed it.

Lily rolled onto her stomach to ease her aching side, and saw legs of at least ten people. A band of bandits, maybe? One was crouching, tugging an arrow out of his shoulder, and a few others were preparing bows far less powerful than Marian's—judging by appearance, of course—and the rest waited, swords, axes and clubs drawn.

And all seemed to be decked out in very fine armour.

She wore a tunic and trousers with her old boots. Marian wore nearly the same. Baran wore a shirt and breeches. None were prepared for a fight in terms of armour.

Had Martin and Oleta taught her any spells that could protect her with magic shields? Had any of the Mages Guild members in the hall in Kvatch showed her how to conjure armour?

That was one of the things her lessons always seemed to be lacking.

Very cautiously, she set Marian's sword on the ground and closed her eyes. She dipped invisible fingers into the little well of Magicka reserved for her in Aetherius and with it she reached into the fiery pits of Oblivion and snagged the soul of its most pitiful creature.

A distraction, she hoped, as she heard the swish of a conjured demon.

The scamp cocked its head to the side as it growled softly. It watched her almost expectantly. Lily bit her lip and waved towards the bandits. "Go," she hissed. "Go fight them or something."

That seemed to be enough encouragement for it. With a noise that sounded almost like a happy purr, it turned on its little heel and loped the distance between the three horse caravan and the bandits.

The taunts barked by the bandits turned at once to shouts of surprise and confusion—what was this hunched, big eared _thing_ running toward them?

Baran smacked her shoulder harder than he should have; Lily nearly went tumbling into the legs of her horse, and the pain in her side multiplied.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, and leaped gracefully to his feet, brandishing his long, slim katana. He simply stood and watched for a few minutes, before saying, "Damn, they made quick work of that. Got enough for another one? Or maybe… a daedroth or spider daedra?"

Lily held up a hand. "One: I can barely summon scamps. Two: I wouldn't have the skill to keep a daedroth under control. Three: I don't know what in Oblivion a spider daedra is." She folded down fingers with each new listed item. "But I _can _throw balls of concentrated magic at people."

"That'll do." He reached down and pulled her to her feet, one-handed. Lily didn't have time to marvel at his strength, however. He made her stand behind Malatu, who apparently was accustomed to battle, unlike Victor—he was backing nervously up, as the black and paint horses stood their ground.

"Marian, keep firing," Baran ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"Sister…" He flashed her a grin she recognized too well from the razing of Kvatch. "Just pretend they're dremora churls, and you'll be all right." Lily couldn't help but giggle, and he added, "Just don't get close enough to touch them, or you'll get another scar."

"I can cast things at a distance now," she murmured, and slowly peeked around Malatu's large back. There was no sign of the scamp—but then, it must have gone back to Oblivion after it was done in Cyrodiil—and the bandit with the arrow in his shoulder had given up trying to take it out. Now they were positioning themselves to ambush the three travellers on the road.

Lily rubbed her wrist over her forehead, thinking back to her first real fight: the one with the highwayman. The dagger was at her hip. Magic was in her fingers. She was probably as ready as she would ever be.

"Akatosh help me," she said, and she brought forth the energy to launch a crackling arc of lightning at her foes.

She hit someone. Did he die? Of course not. He was staggered. And he was pissed.

The bandits charged forward without another moment of hesitation. Lily was dimly aware that Marian stuffed her bow and arrows back into their saddlebag before scooping up her sword from the road. Through unprepared eyes, she saw Baran grit his teeth and ready himself for the first blow from the claymore-wielding bandit who jogged up to him.

But he didn't have armour!

Panic washed over Lily, and she felt her fingers trembling with the effort of finding more Magicka. A cold sweat made her shirt stick to her back, but she tried to ignore it.

They're just dremora churls.

But she didn't kill the churl. Baran did. Baran, with his longsword and his _armour_.

The first hit seemed to paralyze her. She hadn't even seen him as he shoved past Baran and Marian and Malatu and Victor and the paint horse—for some reason, Lily's brain reminded her that Marian had referred to it as Orinthal before, though she didn't know why.

She tumbled to the ground with a fresh wave of pain stabbing her shoulder. She was cold and hot all over, and her arm was comfortingly warm. It was almost enough to distract her from the present situation.

Evidently bandits didn't taunt and tease like highwaymen did. These murderers wanted blood, and that was what they would get.

A shadow loomed up above her, and through blurry vision she saw the dark face of a Dunmer. "Breton filth," he snarled, and spat on her. Lily had the sense to be disgusted, and the sense to realize that he was going to kill her.

She quickly lifted a leg and kicked him right where she thought it would do some good. His eyes bulged as her foot met with his groin with a metallic clang, and he doubled over. Lily gawked when the noise reached her ears, and she saw that he was wearing a near-full suit of some kind of greenish-gold armour.

_Metal codpiece._

By the gods, this was not the time to be thinking of Jake.

When the bandit stumbled back, Lily rolled out of the way and saw for the first time that her shoulder was coated with a sticky red substance. Was she bleeding? That didn't matter.

She jumped to her feet as quickly as she could—which wasn't that quickly, actually—and simultaneously grabbed her dagger and summoned magic to her hands.

The bandit was heading for her again, longsword held out before him. It was dripping with blood—her blood. The Dark Elf sneered at her, showing off yellowed teeth in his dirty face.

"Pathetic worm," he growled, and he swung the sword at her.

Lily shrieked and dropped, feeling the metal slice the spot where her head had just been with a shrill _zing!_ Mustering up as much magic as she could, she braced herself and tackled him. They both felt to the ground and rolled down a short slope, and Lily felt the points of his armour stab at her. Somehow she landed on top of him, and she took advantage of the moment to grab his messy black hair.

"Akatosh help me," she whispered again, and let the fiery magic loose on his hair in a rush of warmth.

It was immediately engulfed, and when he began to scream, she rolled off him and stumbled back up the hill where the main battle was taking place.

Martin was right—Marian was a very talented warrior. She was hacking at the bandits with ease and grace that Lily almost couldn't comprehend. Baran was faring almost as well, but he was young and didn't have the same experience as Marian. More blood covered him, though she couldn't tell if it was his, and he seemed to be having a hard time fighting off two of the bandits. Malatu, Victor and Orinthal had retreated behind a boulder a short ways up the road.

Something smacked her from behind, and she nearly fell again. Lily held up her dagger and whirled around to see a female Redguard in shiny green plates adjusting her grip on her longsword. Before she could strike again, however, the screams of her burning comrade distracted her.

Almost everyone stopped fighting to watch as the man-shaped pillar of fire flailed wildly around the road. A few shouted worriedly at him, but there was no way he heard their cries in the loud _whoosh _of the flames that engulfed him.

There was a desperate, choked cry from behind her, and Lily turned to see Marian staring at the Dunmer with a look of awe on her pale face.

Using a curse she learned from Baran when he explained his mission to her, Lily ignored the dumbstruck bandits and ran as quickly as she could bear to Marian, who was shuffling past the bandits she was fighting to get to the burning man.

"Marian, stop!" she cried breathlessly as she reached the Imperial. Lily grabbed Marian's bloodied sleeves to keep her from moving forward and to keep herself on her feet. "Marian, that's a bad fire. Mean, bad, terrible fire."

The woman's bright green eyes were absurdly wide. "It wants to kill us. That _is _a mean fire."

Lily felt the adrenaline of her short battles wear away, and her knees gave out beneath her. Black spikes surrounded the edges of her vision, and she suddenly felt very light all over. Her grip on Marian's shirt weakened, and she collapsed in a heap on the Silver Road without a sound.

—

Soft fingers gingerly touched her shoulder, and she was suddenly and violently yanked from peaceful blackness into a hellish agony. She must have made some noise when fire ripped through her shoulder and rocketed down her back, for someone floating above her chuckled quietly and said something that sounded to her like, "Oh, would you look at that. She's alive."

Something told her that she recognized that tone. But that was odd… last thing she could remember, she was heading in the exact _opposite _direction of the man that voice belonged to…

A gentler, kinder voice uttered a soft prayer, and she wanted desperately to open her eyes. She knew that voice too! But why did it feel like somebody had welded her eyelids together? Right after sticking her shoulder with a hot poker, too.

_Akatosh, make the pain stop. Please, just this once_.

"You aren't an adventurer, Lily," the sweet, kind voice said quietly. "Stop trying to be one. Buy a house somewhere nice, like Cheydinhal or Skingrad, and just settle down before you get yourself killed."

Her lips moved before her brain told them to. "N-No."

"Figures. If it isn't churls, it's highwaymen. If it isn't highwaymen, it's dangerous thieves. If it isn't dangerous thieves, it's bandits." There was a note of panic in his voice that made her heart break. "What will it be next time? If it isn't bandits, it's Daedra? If it isn't Daedra, it's a Prince?"

Still struggling to open her eyes, she mustered up her strength to retort as cockily as she could, "If… if it isn't a P-Prince… it's an em-emperor…"

"Oh, Lily…"

"Martin, you can't stay up anymore." The first voice was back; the Breton voice. Where was the name to place to it? Jauffre. "You need to rest."

"You know I won't."

"I know, sir, but you need to try. I'll make sure she and Baran and Marian are well taken care of. Please, go rest."

A resigned sigh. "Very well, but Jauffre…"

"Yes, sir?"

"Why hasn't anyone healed them yet?"

"You must, sir, for none of us know how to fix a wound like this. But you need rest first. We'll do with potions and old fashioned care until then." There was something gentle and compassionate in an otherwise stern voice. And the respect and politeness were there, as always. "Baran's tough. He's been through more than bandits. And Marian… well, she's a Blade. And she only has burns; she's in no danger. And the priestess, she will be fine. We've patched up the wound, and we can do nothing for the bruises."

_Akatosh, please, give me the strength to open my eyes... I just want to look at him once more before I die._

Footsteps faded away, voices disappeared, and she was once again left to nothing but shadows.


	9. Shadowfoot

"Jauffre!"

The shout startled Lily out of a pleasant sleep, and she jumped when her eyes snapped open. The sudden movement made jolts of pain shoot to her shoulder, and she hissed sharply when Baran tried to ease her back onto the bed.

"What is it, Amadeus?" the old grandmaster asked, rising from his place near Lily's bed.

"Someone tried to sneak into the Temple, sir!" the Blade exclaimed, flustered. "Baurus found him before he could do any damage, sir, but he's trying his damndest to escape!"

"A sneak," Jauffre grumbled, running his hand over his bald head. "Baran, watch Lily. Martin will have my head if something happens to her. And where in Oblivion has Marian got to?"

"She went to watch the sunrise, sir," Baran reported. "She's probably outside."

"And Martin?"

Baran leaned over Lily to see the bedroll on her other side. "Dead asleep."

Jauffre nodded shortly. "Thank you. If someone gets in here bent on murder, you will die protecting both Martin and _her_, got it?" He jerked his head sharply at Lily, and she felt a little blush form on her face. Now that she had more than one argument with Jauffre, she had to admit he wasn't as bad as she first thought.

"Uh, okay—"

"She is in the Emperor's care, and you serve the Emperor," Jauffre said through gritted teeth. "Wounds be damned, protect her." With that, he stormed from the barracks, heading for the noisy scuffles and shouts that suddenly made themselves known in the main hall.

"I like him," Lily said breathlessly after the grandmaster left. "He's not so bad."

"How are you feeling?"

"My shoulder is on fire."

"No wonder. You got stabbed. But tough it out 'til Martin wakes up; he can heal you then. And no," he said firmly as she opened her mouth, "you won't be healing yourself. You'll just lose energy that you need. Martin will do it."

"Are you ever going to tell me just _what _happened after I passed out in front of a horde of bandits?"

Baran rolled his eyes and leaned on the wall behind them. "You fell, Marian chased the guy you set on fire into an Ayleid ruin and was very disappointed when he fell into a barrel of water—apparently that was their hideout, too—and I was left to finish everyone off while she tried to find her way out. I nearly got my head chopped off, while you were having a nap on the road and Marian was crying about losing a fire in an Ayleid ruin."

"Try not to sound so bitter. I want to talk to Martin."

"No."

"Why?"

"He's sleeping, which he hasn't done in days."

Lily jutted her lip out in a pout, but didn't beg anymore. "How'd we end up here?"

"You were practically dead and Marian was useless, and neither of us knew how to heal you, so we decided this would be the safest place to come. Any objections?"

"No, Your Highness."

A loud thud and angry curse interrupted their conversation. Lily swept her tired, foggy gaze to the door leading to the main hall, and a few seconds later the door slammed open, scaring her again.

To her surprise, it wasn't a Blade that came blowing in. It wasn't even Jauffre. A tall, slender figure stumbled into the room, nearly tumbling into the wall. He was lacking armour—definitely not a Blade, then—and he looked confused as to where he was. A few Blades hurried after him, and he agilely dodged them and sprinted into the room, leaping over Lily's feet and coming to a rest beside Martin.

The whole room went gravely silent when they saw the shining dagger pressed to their heir's throat.

"Do not move," the sneak gasped, his chest heaving with the effort of his escape. "I'd hate to spill precious Septim blood, but, you know, my life depends on your guys' cooperation."

Lily blinked and shook her head. "_Jake?_" she asked incredulously.

The scoundrel flashed her a grin. "Hey, Lil. I just wanted to say hi, but apparently that's a no-no around here."

Beside her, Baran swore rather loudly. "What is _this _bastard doing here?"

Martin, so rudely waked, was staring at his captor with wide, startled eyes. "Uh… may I ask what just happened?"

Jacob gave Martin a smile. "Hey there, I'm Jake. I'm a friend of Lil's. You're Marty Septim, right?"

"Uh… yes…" Martin's gaze flicked over to Lily. "This is the Jake you told me about."

"The one and only," she agreed tiredly. "Let him go," she said to the thief. He had a very steady hand, she noticed, as he held a knife to the throat of the heir to the throne.

Jake gave her an exasperated frown. "Really now, Lil. We'd been getting on so well—and now you want me to let him go? As soon as I do, I'm a dead man. I broke into Cloud Ruler Temple, you know."

"You're a dead man if you hurt him."

He waved his free hand. "Yeah, yeah, I won't hurt Marty. I don't have any reason to. I like the Empire just fine, and that includes its emperor." He lightly patted Martin's cheek, and Lily couldn't help but notice the priest cringed when the thief touched him. Though, that might have been because of the disgusting state of Jake's hands and not because of the man himself.

"Who is this bastard, and how in fetching Oblivion did he get here and find out who Martin is?" Jauffre barked as he marched into the barracks and shoved past two Blades, knocking the smaller of the two over. Fury contorted his lined old face as he glowered down at Jake.

Lily swallowed a very thick lump in her throat. "Er, Jauffre, sir, that's Jacob Bercarius," she explained reluctantly. The sharp eyes shot over to her, and she flinched as though the grandmaster had slapped her. "He's, uh, an acquaintance of mine, who overheard Baran and I talking once, and that's how he knows who Martin is, and…" She paused, light headed, as her shoulder throbbed angrily at her. "Ooh, I don't feel good."

"Bercarius, you ungrateful thieving bastard, let go of Martin for two seconds so he can heal her." That was Baran speaking, she was sure. Everything seemed to swim around her in a blurry ocean.

"Oh, no, no, hero," Jake retorted mockingly. "Just 'cause I'd hate to see Lil dead, I'll help him do it, but there's no way I'm letting him go. I'd hate to see _me _dead more."

Lily rubbed her eyes with her good arm and saw that Jake had helped Martin to his feet, and now the two were crouched over her bedroll, though the dagger was still comfortable next to Martin's fluttering pulse. Seeing the weapon pressed against the tender flesh, a surge of spite ran through her. "He won't hurt you, Martin," she whispered as he gently laid his hands on her shoulder. She knew Jake could hear her perfectly, of course. She shot the thief a dark glower, and he merely smirked in that stupid way of his. "He isn't the assassin. He's little more than a _petty thief_."

Jake's expression didn't change, but she saw Martin pale a few shades as the dagger dug deeper into his neck. "Marty boy, Lil here fancies you. A lot. More than she knows, I reckon. Blushes whenever somebody says your name. Blushes a lot, you know."

"I know," Martin murmured, intent on his work.

Lily scowled at Jake as she felt her cheeks burn. Similar, more pleasant warmth filled her shoulder as Martin healed it, but she ignored it. "Fair enough," she said as flatly as she could with the hot blush growing over her face. As the agony eased in her shoulder, she began to feel a little more normal. And Normal Lily was angry. "Jake is a member of the Thieves Guild." This, at least, made Bercarius stiffen. "I saw him talking to the Gray Fox. And his best friend is an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood."

She immediately regretted saying it when she saw the look in his eyes. Whatever his standing in the Thieves Guild, she was sure that he had killed before, and wouldn't be averse to doing it again to preserve secrecy.

"Marty, tell your Bladelets to leave. _Now_."

Martin glanced worriedly between Baran and Lily before turning his gaze to Jauffre. "Uh… leave?"

"The almighty Hero of Kvatch too."

Very reluctantly, they all shuffled from the barracks. Jauffre was the last to go, glowering all the while. "I will see you hang, thief," he snarled, before leaving.

And then only Lily, Martin and Jake sat on the floor of the barracks.

The dagger slipped away from Martin's neck, and he dropped to his hands and knees, crawling to Lily's side. "Oh, gods, I can't believe you _like _this man," he panted, as though he had been running for a long time.

Jake smirked and arched his eyebrows. "I've been told I've got a roguish charm. Not sweet and tender like Brother Marty, of course…" The smirk morphed into a grin. "So let's get some things straight, Lil. I'm not a petty thief, and I don't appreciate you saying that. I'm a Shadowfoot. I'm one of the Fox's best. Also, to clear it up, Dar'vaba is in no way my best friend. He hates me. He follows me because of a contract he has, and no more. Thieves and assassins don't get along, remember?"

This was a little surprising, though a part of her was intrigued. "Explain, then."

Jake leaned casually against the wall and crossed his legs at the ankles. "If you really want to hear it, fine. Three lovely years ago, I was on my way from Chorrol to Anvil, because I caught wind of some of the Brotherhood stinking up the place. I stopped by your little farm on the way there," he added with a smirk, "but you already know what happened there. I got to Anvil, and found out that the Brotherhood was there too. Figured they were following me. I'm not popular with assassins. Usually end up stealing from them, see.

"So I tried to settle down in Anvil, but one night when I'm minding my own sweet business in the Flowing Bowl, I see this kitty with a pretty dagger." He flipped the dagger in his hand, neatly catching it by the hilt. "So I say to myself, 'Well, Jakey boy, why not take it?' So I did. Very nicely, too. But this kitty wasn't amused. We got in a fight because he caught me, we both got kicked out of the inn… blah, blah, blah. Turns out someone told the Night Mother to kill me, and Dar'vaba was the one for the job. He tracked me from Chorrol to Anvil, sneaky housecat that he is, but his cover was blown when I picked his dagger. _This _dagger. Blade of Woe. Brotherhood specialty."

"So why are you still with him?"

"I have his dagger. He wants it back, you know. But that's not really why. I've been offered the chance to join the Brotherhood before, but I haven't accepted or rejected, so I'm still a prospective member. His contract on me is still going, since he never did kill me, and he doesn't think it's right to kill someone who might join his family one day. Like I ever will," he muttered, rolling his eyes and twirling the ebony dagger again. "He follows me wherever I go in case I meet up with Lucy Lachance and give him a stern no to his offer. I follow him wherever he goes because he stole something of mine when I was sleeping, and I really want it back. I won't leave him 'til it's mine again.

"I won't give Lachance a clean answer if I ever see him again. As soon as I say no, I'm dead.

"I'm used to Dar'vaba now. We get along well enough, as you've seen. He follows me when I've got some thieving to do, and I follow him when he's got contracts. But I wouldn't trust him. I _don't _trust him. I haven't had a good night of sleep in three years."

Lily scowled at him, hiding her surprise at this revelation. "Am I supposed to pity you?"

He chuckled darkly. "You'd think the sweet priestess would have some pity or empathy with her. But no, I don't expect you to. You wanted to hear the story, so I told you."

Lily looked away from him. She wanted to hate him so badly, but she couldn't. Just as one time what felt like so long ago, she _did _pity him. She had once felt sorry that he and Dar'vaba only had each other; now it was upsetting that Jake was truly on his own. He was only being stalked by a cat who wanted his head.

Thick silence fell over the three of them. The pain in Lily's shoulder had long since subsided, but she still ached from bruises littering her body, and she didn't want to break the quiet that had settled by moving to undo the bandage on her arm, or to quietly tend to the rest of her wounds.

"I've told you a lot, Lil." Jake's voice was surprisingly soft. It sounded like a child who lost his innocence far too young. "I'd get it if you turn me in, but I'm going to pray to those fetching gods that you don't."

Very quietly, she asked, "Why did you come here? Where's Dar'vaba?"

Jake bit his lip and looked down at his grubby hands. "He's in Cheydinhal, probably talking to Lachance about my imminent murder. Probably being promoted for his last contract. I didn't follow him. I can't step foot in Cheydinhal without the entire Sanctuary swooping down on me. I knew you'd gone to see Marty when you left the Imperial City. How could you not, after all that crying you did that night?"

Lily felt the blush resurface as Martin's eyes fell on her, but she somehow continued to look only at Jake.

The thief glanced up at her and gave her a sheepish smile. "I was alone in the City with you and him gone. I haven't been alone in three years. I don't like it anymore."

"And…" Martin sounded frightened to be actually speaking to this man, but outwardly he seemed fine. "And you thought walking into the home of the Blades would be safer than going to Cheydinhal."

"I picked soldiers over assassins, yeah. Figure if a Blade was going to kill me, he'd make it obvious. Assassins like being quiet. And besides, Lil's here. For all she says she hates me, she wouldn't have me killed. We've already been over this."

Lily gave him a stern look. He seemed so pitiable at that moment, hanging his head and scowling at his hands—the slender, agile hands of a pickpocket. "You've tried to have sex with me," Lily murmured. "You've stalked me halfway across the country. You've robbed me and threatened me. And you've attacked my best friend. What makes you think I'd have mercy on you?"

"Well, you're a priestess, Lil. Aren't the gods supposed to be merciful?"

She sighed heavily. "I won't turn you in, and you know it. But… Martin, I don't know what you plan on doing about him, but for a few minutes, could you tell the Blades not to kill him? Get Marian to teach him about fire or something, but make sure he's not here and he's not dead."

The heir reluctantly acquiesced, and soon Jake was seated with Marian before the fire of the main hall, with the other Blades glaring on.

Martin sighed and shut the door to the hall, sitting down across from Lily again in the barracks. "It's done. They won't hurt him unless I tell them to. So. Let's talk. We've got time."

Lily gingerly poked a bruise on her arm, being careful not to look him in the face. "I… I don't know what to say."

"Perhaps you should start with how you cried about me on your last night with that man."

The bruise was purple and blue, she noticed. Very pretty colours for an injury. "That wasn't the only time. That… it had been a bad time, though. Everything reminded me of you that day." She felt herself blush at memory, and not for the first time, she hated that she was prone to such embarrassing flushes. "I cried over you in Bruma before Baran brought me here the first time. I cried over you countless times before that. It doesn't matter."

"Ah. And all this about… fancying…" He trailed off, and she looked up briefly to see him frowning at the wall behind her head.

The blush immediately grew hotter. "It's a little girl's crush, and nothing more." She hoped her tone would make him drop it.

She was wrong, of course. The man who was learning to become an emperor wouldn't likely take 'no' for an answer.

"And how long has this little girl's crush been going on?"

Trying desperately to sound casual, Lily replied, "Oh, you know… the past three years… uh, what are you going to do about Jake? He _did _break into Cloud Ruler Temple and hold a knife to your throat, and all."

Martin gave her a curious frown, but to her relief, he didn't push the subject. "I don't know. Jauffre won't act without my word, and… if you want him to live, he'll live. If you don't care, he'll die."

Lily looked down at her hands. Red flakes were stuck underneath her fingernails from where she had touched her wound, and there were a few small, shiny burns from being too close to the Dark Elf she had set on fire. With that offer, the life of Jacob Bercarius rested in these little hands.

Did she care if Jake lived? He was a thief, a murderer, and an outright bastard, to be sure. And being executed by the Blades was probably a better way to go than to be given to the Imperial Legion. He would be free of Dar'vaba; the Dark Brotherhood would no longer be on his back, and they could all move on to more important contracts. Crazy Hieronymus Lex could give up hunting for the Fox's Shadowfoot. She wouldn't be stalked anymore.

"I'll leave the decision to you, but I think I'd prefer it if he lived."

"Then he'll live." Martin climbed to his feet and held out a hand. Lily took it and once she was standing, she followed him to the door to the main hall.

She smiled a little when she slipped into the hall. All the Blades were huddled near the front door, glowering at Jake as he and Marian crouched before the fire in the big hearth. The woman was staring at the fire, entranced, and Jake was watching her with a confused frown on his face.

"Martin, sir," Jauffre said, marching up to the two as they entered the hall. "This is madness, sir. Please, let us deal with this thief now."

"You will deal with him how I see fit, Jauffre," Martin said, immediately businesslike. "He'll go free."

Lily wondered if Jauffre hurt his jaw when it hit the floor.

"Without any severe penalties," Martin continued, "but he'll have to stay with Lily and Marian to keep his secrecy. Should his friend join them, well, the more the merrier."

"And if he chooses to escape?"

Martin gave Jake a contemplative look, and Lily noticed that the thief actually looked genuinely afraid. Maybe he finally clued in that he was dealing with the future emperor, and not just a priest. "Well, then I suppose he's once again at the mercy of the guards and Dark Brotherhood. And if he escapes, and you come across him again, Marian, _you_ deal with him as you see fit, whether it's chaining, turning him in to the guard, or executing him yourself. Same goes to you, Baran."

Baran looked as though he'd be more than happy to lop Jake's head off without turning a hair.

"Thanks," Jake said, breathing a sigh of relief that Lily thought only she picked up on. "I owe you one."

"Just keep Lily safe, and consider the favour repaid."

The finality in his voice would have been impossible to miss. He was dismissing them. But then, it made sense, even though she was a little hurt. He had things to do, and they should have been halfway to gods know where by now.

"This is a terrible idea, sir," Jauffre murmured when he got close to Martin.

Lily didn't wait to hear what Martin had to say. She sidestepped past the grandmaster and padded up to the fireplace. "You must be the luckiest guy in Nirn," she remarked as Jake stood and stretched. "You just broke into Cloud Ruler Temple and held the heir hostage, and you're getting off with a warning."

"I have a feeling you had something to do with that."

"Maybe. Do you have a horse?"

"Why?"

Lily sighed and gestured to Marian and Baran, who were already preparing to leave. "We ride horses, Jacob. Do you just run everywhere?"

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, I do. Never been on a horse in my life. Well, no, that's a lie; my dad had a horse and he used to force me to ride it. And I had to ride an Imperial Legion horse when I got arrested once… but I don't own one."

Lily cocked an eyebrow at him, but he didn't elaborate further. "All right, we'll figure something else out. Go with Marian and Baran and help them get ready. I need to get this bandage off before we leave." Once he was ushered out the front door with Baran and Marian, she plopped onto a chair at one of the tables and shook the loose sleeve off her arm to get to the bloody wrappings.

Undoing copious amounts of tightly wound bandages one-handed was a complete pain in the ass. Lily glanced upwards and murmured a little apology to Akatosh for cursing, and then continued struggling with the knot. Who tied this thing, a bloody sailor?

Jauffre's roughened hands reached over her shoulder and easily untied the knot. "You should leave quickly," he said when he finished. Lily watched in silence as he began to slip the bandages off her shoulder. "It's only just past dawn, so you have the whole day to get to wherever you plan on going."

"Thank you."

When he was finished, he tossed the bloodied cloths to the table and stood in front of her, inspecting the uncovered stab wound. "You know I don't agree with Martin's decision to let this Bercarius fellow live," he muttered, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching them. He looked back at her and frowned somewhat. "Keep a close eye on him, Sister."

Lily tried—badly—to stifle her surprise. From her recollection, that was the first time he referred to her as anything other than 'her' or 'she' or some other simple title. "Of course, Grandmaster," she returned, just as respectfully.

"If you consider him a friend, then you should be able to keep him in line. What about this friend of his?"

Lily gently prodded the clean, thick line of the stab that was little more than a scab now. It hurt to touch, and she knew she'd end up picking the scab off, but it was better than bleeding out through the shoulder. To add to her injuries, she was blanketed in bruises—but there wasn't much she could do about those.

Jauffre waited patiently while she took inventory of her wounds. When she was finished, she rested her hands demurely in her lap and looked up at the old Breton. "I haven't spoken more than ten words to him. He's an untrustworthy assassin, and as long as Jake's alive, he'll be there. And as long as Jake's with us, he'll be with us, so we can monitor him if he tries to tell someone."

"Good. Until we meet again, Sister." He gave her a little bow before striding off to talk to another Blade.

Lily sighed and did up the top few buttons of her shirt as she stood. This was like some twisted déjà vu, having to prepare to leave Cloud Ruler Temple yet again.

Everything that wasn't currently on her was on Victor. She was ready to head out—_again_.

The hall was slowly emptying of Blades. The chaos surrounding Jake's arrival ebbed away, and soldiers returned to their posts without another word. The silence was peaceful, and she inhaled the smoky air before pushing her hair from her face and turning towards the exit.

"That's why you looked so uncomfortable when we were talking about Marian, isn't it?"

Lily looked over her shoulder and saw Martin leaning against the wall near the door to the barracks. Had he been there the entire time? She had assumed he had gone back to sleep after giving the orders about Jake.

She pulled on a rogue curl beside her face and put all her energy into focussing on it so she didn't have to look at him—so she didn't have to blush like she always did. "A little," she mumbled. Huh, the sun had bleached some of her hair blonde. That was interesting. "I don't think it matters, though."

"I won't push it. I just wanted to know before you left."

Lily nodded and went to hug him once more before she had to hit the road.

Their goodbyes had a strange pattern. Ridiculously difficult, much easier, and now awkward and difficult again. Why couldn't they be simple? Then again, she was dealing with the next in line to leading a country. Things weren't simple for men in his position.

And then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, she was setting foot into the courtyard of Cloud Ruler Temple to get ready to leave.

When she stepped into the pale, early morning sunshine, she saw Malatu, Orinthal and Victor all set to go, with Marian and Baran on their respective horses. Jake was standing some metres away, arms crossed as he stared at the little procession of horses.

"What's wrong?" Lily asked as she approached. "Afraid of doubling up with someone?"

He didn't break eye contact with Victor, who he seemed to be having a staring contest with. "No…" he said, drawing out the word. "'Cause I'll be doubling up with you and I've got no objection to having your bottom wedged between my legs."

"Pig."

Jake grinned and his dark eyes flicked her way. "Hey, I'm still young enough to think like any other man. I'm not ancient yet." He looked back at the white horse, and she noticed the uneasiness in his gaze.

Lily's brows shot up under her messy fringe, and she leaned in close to him. "Jake… are you afraid of horses?"

"No," he replied, too quickly and sharply.

"Did you really lose your horse near Kvatch before coming to our farm?"

"I'm surprised you still remember that. And… I didn't, no. I didn't have a horse. I walked. I already told you I walk everywhere." He cleared his throat loudly and determinedly marched towards Victor. The horse grunted as he approached, and Jake winced the tiniest bit. "Let's just do this, all right?"

Lily floated up behind him and mounted the horse with ease. Once she was settled in the saddle, she smiled down at him. "Well, come on. You said you wouldn't mind sitting behind me, after all."

He eyed the big white animal warily. "Can I walk?"

"Hurry up, would you?" Baran snapped. He was shining in his mithril armour—which Lily was relieved to see after their last expedition—and Malatu was pawing restlessly at the ground underneath him. "We don't have all day."

Once he finally got the courage to mount—which he didn't know how to do, as Baran had to grudgingly help him—he wrapped his arms so tightly around Lily's waist that she thought she'd suffocate before they left the fortress.

"You're killing me, Jake," she coughed, holding the reins with one hand and using the other to pluck at his fingers.

She felt him rest his forehead against her back. "Just go, okay? How long are we going to have to ride this thing?"

"Until you squeeze the air out of me."

To her relief, his grip loosened. "Can you distract me?"

"How?"

"Well… last time I was on a horse, which was… four years ago, when I got arrested, the soldiers I was with were all singing."

Lily snorted. "I'm not singing. Here, uh…" She sighed heavily and tried to think of a conversation starter as they set off out the gates of Cloud Ruler Temple. On the road to Bruma, yet again. "How old are you? My sister thought you were twenty-five when she met you, and you're making yourself out to be old."

"I'll be thirty on the first of Second Seed."

"Hm. Older than I thought. Uh… how long have you been a thief?" These were the simplest questions in the book; she hated that she had no creativity, but it seemed to be working.

"Since I was sixteen. Was practically living on the streets and robbed a guy's house to stay alive."

"When did the Dark Brotherhood contact you?"

"Ten years ago. Sprang a trap in an old fort and killed a friend of mine."

Well, this one would be pure curiosity. "How many people have you killed?"

She felt his arms tense against her waist. "Too many. The money I got from raiding forts and ruins was all wasted on blood prices for the Fox a long time ago. Practically broke now, and I can't go into Leyawiin without somebody trying to pin a death on me."

"So, you can't go into Cheydinhal _and _Leyawiin?"

"Unless I want the Brotherhood to kill me or the guard to throw me in prison, yeah. And it's getting pretty dangerous in the Imperial City, too. Hieronymus Lex is onto me."

Lily was stunned into silence. And she thought _her _life had its troubles.

—

They stopped riding well into the night, and began to set up camp just off the Silver Road. Baran protested, saying that the village of Bleaker's Way was probably less than an hour ahead, but Jake argued fiercely that they were all tired and needed a break, and would he just get that through his thick skull?

Lily thought she was the only one who knew that the thief was desperate to get away from the horses for a while.

When they got little bedrolls set up and hobbled the horses nearby, the sane of the group debated if it was safe to start a fire.

"She might leap onto it and burn us all to Oblivion," Jake mused, giving Marian a narrow stare as she cheerfully hummed on her bedroll.

"And it's Frostfall and I'm already freezing my butt off," Lily argued quietly, rubbing her arms through her thin linen shirt. "You'll get more than a slap on the wrist if I'm frozen stiff in the morning, Baran. It's called _Frostfall _for a reason. The _frost falls_, you know."

Baran sighed heavily and folded his arms across his chest. "Not tonight, Sister. It's too dangerous. This road is popular for bandits, and they'll come running at the sight of fire. We _could've _gone to Bleaker's Way and stayed in a warm inn for the night, but Bercarius insisted we stop here. You're suffering for his demands, Sister."

Lily scowled as he turned toward his own bedroll next to Marian's. "Oh, I hope we come across an Oblivion Gate tomorrow so I can kick him into it and knock it over myself," she hissed, trying to stop from trembling. At Jake's chuckle, she shot him a glare and added, "You too. You're just as anti-fire as he is."

She saw his teeth against his shadowed face as he grinned. "That's only because I can think of better ways of keeping warm."

"I am _not _putting my bedroll beside yours," she muttered, pushing past him and bending over one of her saddlebags. She yanked her cloak from it and wrapped it around herself.

The only indication that he neared her was the faint rattle of rocks stirred underfoot. "You already did. Me and Baran on the outside, remember? To protect the fair damsels from whatever might come upon us in the night."

"To get eaten first," she said mutinously as she sat on her lump, uncomfortable bedroll. Jake lowered himself with much more grace beside her. "The bears are probably searching for innocent travellers to chow down on before hibernating."

"Well, then I guess I'm safe if they're only looking for innocent travellers. Should someone stay awake? You know, watch and whatnot?" he asked, raising his voice a bit to include Marian and Baran to the conversation.

"Marian's already asleep," Baran remarked, looking at the lump beside him. "And Sister Lily might throw a fit if she's kept from her rest any longer."

"You know it," she grumbled.

"I'll stay up," Baran offered, ignoring her interruption. "I'm not that tired anyways. I'll wake up Marian after a few hours. You two just sleep."

Lily huffed and fell onto her back, curling under her cloak and the pathetic blanket the bedroll came with. They were all squished together to preserve warmth, and she felt a little trapped with Marian pressed against her left and Jake at her right.

The little campsite was silent for a few minutes, save for the natural sounds of the night. Nocturnal birds chirped softly and fluttered from tree to tree, and bugs continually fluttered around Lily's face, their wings gently beating against her cheek before they fluttered off. With Marian's sleepy sighs and Baran quietly humming to himself, it was the essence of peaceful.

Until Jake broke it by speaking again, of course.

"You know, your hair is so bright I can see it in the darkness," he murmured.

Lily rolled onto her side to face him, and now she was back to back with Marian. The thief was watching her with an innocent expression—she didn't trust it one bit. "Well, I _do _have bright hair."

He didn't miss a single beat before smirking and asking, "Does the carpet match the drapes?"

Lily was glad it was dark. Nobody could see her blush in the middle of the night. "You're disgusting."

"You're a prude."

"_I'm _a priestess," she corrected fluidly.

"That's synonymous with prude, Lil. But I won't deny the disgusting part, just for your sake. I know you'll bring it up again eventually."

"Like right now? That's… three rude things you've said to me since we left Cloud Ruler Temple, and that _doesn't _include when you 'accidentally' put those filthy hands all over my chest outside Bruma," she muttered, trying to keep her voice low so Baran couldn't overhear, "or when—"

Jake snickered and said, "Hey, that actually was an accident. That hill was steep, and I slipped. Had to grab _something _to stop from falling off that damn horse."

"Fine." Lily shivered and pulled her blankets closer around her. "You're still disgusting."

"You haven't been around many men, have you?"

No, she really hadn't. There had been her father, Ilav, Martin, Marius and the travellers who stopped at the farm in her childhood. While the strangers weren't icons of virtue—in fact, some were downright shady—the rest were definitely good role models, and all far older than her.

Lily sighed and curled into a tight ball. "No. And none were like you."

"I sure hope that's good."

"Me too."


	10. The Deadlands

Everyone was cheerful when the morning came—Baran was even in a good enough mood to agree to lighting a fire, which Marian was only too happy to help with.

Well, those who were awake were cheerful. It was nearing eight o'clock and Lily, Marian and Baran had been awake since six—and Jake was _still _sleeping.

"Pass the bread, Sister?"

Lily absently handed the little loaf over to Baran; her eyes were still locked on Jake, who was sprawled on his bedroll and hers. "How can he sleep through this? We're not exactly being quiet," she remarked, sitting beside Marian as she shuffled closer to the little fire.

"Maybe he was tired," Baran replied, tossing a lump of mutton over the flames at Marian, who caught it deftly and plucked the cloth off it. "Have a good conversation last night?" he asked, grinning at her with a glint in his eyes that she didn't like.

Lily gingerly took the mutton he handed to her. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it. You could've said something when we were riding, you know. Since he was groping you and all. Is that why you yelped about a half hour out of Bruma?" There was laughter in his voice; apparently nothing could dampen his mood.

She stabbed the meat with a sharpened stick and stuck it into the flames for lack of a better way of cooking it. "No, that was because he was apparently uncomfortable and shifted behind me, and dug his hips into me."

"Seems innocent enough," the knight remarked through a mouthful of bread.

Lily chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Sure, if he hadn't done it suggestively. You'd think the man was sexually frustrated, or something."

"I'd call it bad flirting, if you ask me. Or really upfront flirting. Either way, he likes you."

"Don't be ridiculous. How do I know when this is done?" she asked, waving the mutton around in the fire.

Baran shrugged. "I don't know. If you get sick later, it probably wasn't done. Marian, don't touch the fire."

The blonde woman smiled like a child who was caught with her hand in the pantry, and she backed up a little, though her knees were practically in the flames. "Where are we going today?" she asked, still staring into the little crackling fire.

"I don't know," he said again. "I'll look around on that hill up by the road and see what's around here. Maybe there's something interesting."

Marian finally looked up and gave Baran a little smile. "No Ayleid ruins, please."

"I second that," Lily piped up, pulling the mutton out of the fire and gently prodding it.

"There's no interesting ruins around here anyways," a sleepy voice said from behind her. Lily glanced back and saw Jake sitting up, though he looked as though he would topple over if somebody breathed on him. "Only Sercen and Anga, and they've been picked clean."

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Lily said cheerfully, scooting over to give him room by the fire. "Have a good sleep?"

He gave her a lopsided smile as he crawled to her side. "The best in three years, since there was no Dar'vaba to try and slit my throat."

"Well, no matter where we go, _I _need to start heading east," Baran said, tossing Jake a little bundle of food, which the thief barely managed to catch in his semiconscious state. "Jauffre wants me to go to Lake Arrius Caverns by Cheydinhal. If you want to follow, be my guest."

"I wouldn't mind," Lily admitted, handing Jake her stick after dropping the mutton onto a square of cloth. "And I guess these two are coming with me, since they're kind of in my care."

"We don't have to go into Cheydinhal, do we?" Jake asked, glancing between Lily and Baran.

"Not unless you want to."

"I wouldn't mind," Lily mentioned, "since I haven't been there yet."

"The people are snobs, the buildings are rich and _purple_, if you'd believe it, there's a river running through it, the count's a Dark Elf, and it's a lot like Morrowind," Jake rattled off. "Need to go, still?"

"You don't have to come with me," Lily said. "I'll go on my own, or with Marian, since she hasn't been there yet. You can wait out of the city with Baran."

The thief gave the knight a narrow look, but Baran didn't notice. "You'd come back to find me headless, you know."

Lily grinned at him and patted his knee. "That's a risk I'm willing to take, dear Jacob."

Baran climbed to his feet. "I'm going to scout around before we head out," he announced, and wound past the little group to head for the road.

"Ouch!" Marian suddenly yelped, and she shuffled back from the fire with two fingers in her mouth.

"Did it burn you?" Lily asked.

Marian nodded pitifully and mumbled something about the fire being deceitful.

Jake got to his feet and wandered away into the woods, leaving the women by the fire, which Marian was now glaring hotly at, though she was still dangerously close.

Soon, Bercarius returned with a little smirk on his face. Lily eyed him warily as he sat down beside her. "What's with the look?" she asked.

"You should be careful what you wish for," he said cryptically.

"Why? What happened?"

Jake grinned and a little well of fear made itself comfortable in her gut. She thought she knew him well enough to know that look wasn't trustworthy. "Baran saw an Oblivion Gate, and he's bent on going inside."

—

It took all her effort to not burst into terrified tears when they trekked onwards. Low, menacing rumbles shook the earth, and blood red lightning crashed through the crimson sky as they hiked nearer and nearer to the portal to hell. The horses were whinnying nervously, struggling against their reins, but their owners determinedly pulled them onward.

The first tear slipped down her cheek when she looked up from her feet to see the jagged black gate looming before them. Fire crackled around it, and the white hot energy that would take them away from Tamriel glowed ferociously. The ground below it was cracked and dry. It was identical to the thing that helped obliterate Kvatch.

Baran was trembling with excitement, and the evil red light from the gate glinted off his silvery mithril chains. Marian had locked herself inside her grandmother's Demented armour—which was dark brown, jagged and spiky, just like her strange weapons—and was whispering soothingly to Orinthal. Jake was lacking armour and armed with nothing but the stolen Blade of Woe. Lily was the same, but with her stolen steel dagger.

Baran and Marian went to tie the horses to a tree just far enough away from the gate, leaving Lily and Jake standing in the clearing near the fiery monstrosity.

"Akatosh save us," she whispered, and closed her eyes as more tears fell free.

"What? Oh, yeah, you've seen these before… are you okay?" Jake asked, shuffling closer to her.

"No, but… I will be." She doubted her own words; her knees were knocking together, and she didn't think she'd be able to keep her breakfast down until they got far away from this tremendous evil. "How are you going to protect yourself?"

He glanced down at his dagger and shrugged. "I'm going to rely on Baran and Miss Crazy to keep me alive. I'm not going to be of any use if I try to pick a dremora's pocket. But at least I'm not going to get burns from wearing metal," he murmured, watching as Baran and Marian approached. "Poor shit's going to feel like hell in there."

Lily exhaled shakily and shut her eyes, but she only saw the corpses of those slain in Kvatch etched into her eyelids. Rubbing her eyes, she kept her gaze on the ground and sidled close to Jake. Even if he wasn't drunk like before, he was still a comforting presence. Slipping her hand into his to keep it from quivering, she watched Baran and Marian return.

"Are you two ready?" Baran asked, grinning at the two of them as he unsheathed his long, slim katana. Marian was fiddling with her hair, and seemed oblivious to her surroundings.

Lily shuddered as though somebody had blown icy wind down her back—a painful contrast to the warmth surrounding the gate. "Keep us alive, Baran."

"I will, Sister."

Marian looked up as she finished tucking back her hair, and she finally seemed to notice the gate looming up before them. Her eyes popped open and her jaw fell to the ground, and she simply stared at it for some time. "Oh, my…" she said breathlessly. "My lord, you have been good!" With that, she slipped past Baran and sprinted with incredible speed toward the gate.

"Oh—Marian, get back!" Baran scrubbed his hand through his hair and turned to chase her, but she was already near the gate. "Come on!" he shouted at Lily and Jake.

When Lily remained petrified, Jake tugged at her hand and she stumbled after him. Lily watched in horror as Marian stepped up to the gate and vanished in the hissing flames. Baran followed after her, and similarly disappeared from this world.

Lily and Jake paused just outside the gate. This near to it, the heat emanating from it was scorching, and she felt the breath yanked from her in the stifling dryness. She glanced up at Jake, who was looking at it nervously. "Are you ready?" she whispered. The heat was so much that it dried the tears in her eyes before they could fall.

Jake smiled comfortingly at her and gave her hand a little squeeze. "Are you?" he murmured, and they stepped into the portal.

Flames engulfed them. Wind shrieked around them, whipping their clothes and hair against their skin, stinging their faces and arms. The heat was unbearable—it felt as though it was melting the flesh from their bones, and dried the blood in their veins. Lily wanted to scream, but her voice was frozen and she couldn't move. Panic overwhelmed her, and just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, it was over.

They tumbled through the portal and slammed into cracked, jagged earth below them. Lily groaned when a large boulder forced them to a stop, and she struggled to push herself up. Her head was spinning, and nausea was trying to shove her breakfast from her stomach. Beside her, Jacob was visibly swaying—or was that just her dizziness?

Lily waited for the world to stop twirling before using the boulder—which was so hot it hurt to touch—to climb back to her feet and look around.

They seemed to be on a dry, shrivelled little island surrounded by a raging ocean of bubbling lava. In the centre was a pond of the liquid fire, with a tall black tower in the middle. Two smaller, similar towers stood nearer to them, with a narrow bridge connecting them. From what she could see, there was no way to get to the middle tower—but maybe they wouldn't have to go to it.

The dry, stifling heat pressed down on them from all sides; the pressure was incredible, and she thought her ribs would collapse under it. Sweat already made her shirt stick to her back and her scalp itch. Superheated winds blew against them, doing nothing to ease the intensity of the temperature.

"Ugh, shit, can we never do that again?" Jake grumbled behind her. "Are you okay?"

Lily rubbed her throbbing head and turned to see him stumbling unsteadily up to her. So she hadn't imagined it—he had been swaying. "Yeah… where're Baran and Marian?" she panted, wiping her forehead, which was already slick with sweat.

Jake looked as though he was about to vomit; he was pale and bleary-eyed. "Don't know… should we call 'em?"

She peeked around the boulder and spotted something up ahead in dark armour. She couldn't tell if it was Marian or a dremora, but it had to be one of them, right? "No… something might hear us. Let's just look." Lily was about to wind past the rock, but she stopped when she heard Jake gag and throw up behind her.

"I feel better," he announced, coming up beside her a moment later. "Who's that?"

Lily squinted through the shimmering heat waves to try and see the dark figure ahead. "I don't know. I thought it was Marian, but maybe—" She stopped abruptly and looked down, hearing a little whimper. "It's not Marian. She's right here."

The woman was curled up on the ground in front of the rock, moaning and sobbing softly. There were no tears, but that was probably the fault of the incredible heat.

Lily dropped to her knees beside Marian and gently wiped her hair from her face. Marian didn't seem to notice she was there. "Marian? Are you all right? Do you see anywhere she could be hurt?" she asked, looking up at Jake, who still looked woozy.

"Couldn't tell with all that armour on her. Where's Baran? Bastard just up and left us here…"

Marian pried one eye open, and she squeaked and squeezed it shut again. "It's angry," she whispered. "It wants to take us, to torture us—to kill us. He lied. He said he wanted us here, he said he would make us happy, give us whatever we wanted…"

Lily went to touch Marian's arm, but flinched and jerked her hand back when she felt how hot her armour was. Ignoring her smarting hand, she asked softly, "Who, Marian? Who spoke to you?"

Marian covered her face with her hand and shuddered. "I don't know."

"Oh, _there _you are!"

Lily looked up and saw Baran running towards them, low to the ground. "There _you_ are!" she snapped irritably. "Why did you run off without us?"

"Keep your voice down—the dremora will hear you for miles," he said, crouching beside them. "I didn't run off, by the way. A dremora kynreeve saw Marian jump through and tried to alert some others, so I had to take care of them. None of you have ever been to Oblivion before, so do _exactly as I say_, or you'll probably be taken by some angry dremora and locked in a torture cage for his almighty Dagon's pleasure. Marian, you _have _to get up, and you have to ignore the fire. If you can't, I'm sending you back through, and you can wait with the horses—and believe me, we could use your help here. Sister, you and Bercarius_ cannot wander away_," he ordered sharply. "I'll take the lead and Marian will bring up the rear, and you two stay between us. Hide if there are too many Daedra. Sister, I know you can help with spells if you have to, but don't waste your energy if it isn't absolutely necessary. We might…" Baran trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind. Marian, _get up_."

As the knight forced the Manic to her feet, Jake mumbled, "Why am I here? I could just go back through that thing and leave you guys. I don't have any reason to hang around."

"You're supposed to keep me safe," Lily mentioned, pulling her dagger from her belt and plucking her damp shirt away from her chest. "Oh, Akatosh, my mouth is dry."

"You won't find any water here," Baran said, pushing his hair back. Shorter strands stuck up from the sweat, but otherwise he didn't seem to notice the heat. "Come on, we need to close this thing."

He turned and started towards the two frontal towers, and Lily and Jake followed, with Marian shuffling up behind them. Her desire to explore the fire and lava was almost palpable.

When they neared the pond of lava, the dark figure Lily had spotted snarled something in the raspy, gravelly voice she remembered so vividly from her encounter with the dremora churl. It unsheathed its jagged Daedric blade with a spine-tingling shriek and stalked toward them.

"Get back, Sister," Baran ordered. "Marian, get ready."

Lily hurried back a few paces, and stood beside a large black spike jutting from the ground near the edge of the island. Jake slunk up beside her, muttering about how much he hated heat, and how he was going to move to Skyrim one day.

The dremora was the first to strike. Baran stood with his knees bent and his sword held in a defensive position, and Marian was just behind him, standing similarly. When the heavy reddish blade of the dremora crashed down against the slim katana, Baran shoved it back and swung his sword around to reach the dremora's side. The Daedra noticed the attack and easily blocked it, but its other, now vulnerable side was launched upon by Marian. She smacked the flat side of her sword against its waist, and it stumbled back with an enraged cry. When it regained its balance, it leaped agilely backwards when Baran swiped at it, and again when Marian advanced upon it. Its voice travelled the distance to Lily and Jake when it shouted something about Mehrunes Dagon, and in a flurry of bluish-white Baran and Marian were knocked several metres back. As the dremora approached them, both tried to get to their feet, but their movements were slow and sluggish from the frost spell.

"Should we help?" Lily asked breathlessly, grabbing Jake's arm to keep her hands from shaking too badly.

"He'll call if he needs help."

She watched in horror as the dremora moved toward Baran's unprotected neck, but just as it lifted its blade, the knight swung his legs to the side and kicked it so it collapsed beside him. It howled as it landed on a sharp rock, and as it struggled to get back up, Marian leaped up and grabbed it by the horns protruding from its forehead. Surprise overtook the terror of the fight, and Lily watched blankly as the woman dragged it across the dry earth towards the pond of lava in the middle of the island. With a little smile, she released the horns and gave it a hearty kick. With a horrible screech, its arm fell into the lava and cloth beneath its armour immediately caught fire. The greyish skin blackened as the flames shot up through cracks in the heavy Daedric armour, and its frantic screams grew louder as it fried into a crispy husk.

Marian simply watched with a contented smile. Baran was still on his back, mumbling under his breath.

"Holy…" Jake muttered. "Come on." He locked her fingers in his and led the way to the victors.

"Baran!" Lily gasped, kneeling beside him. "Are you all right?"

"I was just savouring the cold," he said, staring up at the fire-rent sky. "Frost spells are nice here."

Jake followed his gaze. "Can it be stormy in Oblivion?" he asked.

Baran shook his head, but didn't bother to stand up. "It's always like this, but the wind seems to be picking up."

It was, too. A muggy gust blew towards them, picking up the flaky ashes of the dremora along the way. Lily shuddered when the black flecks stuck to the film of perspiration covering her body, but that, along with the dirt, could be taken care of later.

After another moment, Baran got back up and recovered his sword before continuing to lead the way to one of the front towers. Lily shut her eyes and murmured a brief prayer to the Nine, before squeezing Jake's hand tightly and following him toward one of the fortresses of Oblivion.

—

Daedroth and clannfear and scamps and atronachs and xivilai and spider daedra. Warriors and archers and mages. Churls and caitiffs and kynvals. Kynreeves and kynmarchers and markynaz and valkynaz. All were minions of Lord Dagon's army, and all tried their damndest to kill the little pilgrimage. Baran and Marian did everything they could to fight off the demonic soldiers, and even once had Lily summon a clannfear when they were fighting a xivilai who did the same; the two summoned creatures looked at each other in confusion before attacking, which made Jake snort with laughter despite the situation.

After each little battle, Marian had Baran explain what they fought and its ranking in Dagon's army; all his information was news to Lily, as well.

In the first tower, they had to ride a holed machine of sorts up to a second level, climb a long, tiring slope to the top, and pull a very heavy lever. Baran explained that it would build a bridge for them to get to the main tower. Then they went back _down _the slope, and opened a door to the narrow walkway between the two minor towers. Lily felt as though she dropped her heart down the huge drop from bridge to ground, but doggedly continued on, trying not to look down the whole way.

In the second tower, they were already halfway up the slope. After climbing to the top, a dremora valkynaz nearly knocked Jake over the edge—and Lily with him, since she stubbornly refused to release his hand—but Marian stopped it by pushing it when it wasn't looking. The crunch of bones was impossible to ignore. They pulled yet another lever, and Baran led the way through a nearby door to another tiny bridge, though this one led to the main tower.

Again they climbed.

In a room whose doors creaked and cracked like snapping bones, a dremora mage tossed a fireball at the group. Marian squealed like a little girl and chased it when it missed Baran, and singed some of her hair. Lily begged for a rest on some out of place benches, but Baran urged them onwards, saying that more Daedra would show up soon enough if they waited around.

It took hours to haul the little party up the steep inclines, but Baran said words of encouragement; it wasn't too far yet, and they were almost at the top.

When they reached the top, everything seemed to be made of flesh and bone, and Lily felt sick at the sight of it. The noise was unbearable—a pillar of fire shot through the centre of the tower, and it seemed to shriek whenever they came near it. A dremora mage summoned a frost atronach that blessedly threw a frost spell at Lily and Jake—they were knocked to the ground while Marian and Baran had to fight the Daedra, but Lily was grateful that she was cool for a few moments. Once they were back on their feet, they watched the two warriors fight off even more hulking daedroths and enormously tall xivilai before they climbed a ramp made of skin stretched taut up to a balcony at the very top of the tower.

The noise was incredible here. In the middle of the pillar of fire, a smallish black ball swirled wildly; it seemed to be the one making the noise, though Lily wasn't sure.

Marian couldn't hold herself back at this point. The whole time she had shown incredible self-control by not leaping into fires—which were in abundance in Mehrunes Dagon's Deadlands—but when they reached this point she practically threw herself off the balcony, at the ball in the fire. Lily watched in horror as the woman began to fall the ridiculous distance to the level below, but the world seemed to flip upside down in a windy, screeching storm, and before Marian could even make it halfway to the floor, the four of them were violently tossed from Oblivion with the same sensation that had brought them there.

Lily was very aware that her nose hurt from the landing; she was sprawled face-first on the dirt outside the gate, panting and spent from the adventure. She was hot and sticky and extremely thirsty, but she couldn't bring herself to move, even for water.

An agonized groan at her side made her open her eyes. Jake was beside her, swearing and cursing every god from every religion he could think of. He looked awful; red-faced from the heat, drenched in sweat and caked in dirt and ashes. Lily figured she had to look just as bad.

And then a shout brought her all the way back to the present. "Marian! Give that to me, hurry!"

The soft, breathy voice of the Manic asked, "Why?"

"I don't know what it'll do to you."

"It isn't talking to me."

"What?"

"Before we went into Oblivion, the gate spoke to me. This isn't, don't worry."

"Uh… right, you should give it to me anyways. It's a Daedric artefact, and it could be dangerous."

"Okay."

Lily groaned and rolled onto her back, prying her hand from Jake's for the first time in ages. Their fingers felt fused to each other, and their palms were glued together from the sticky sweat. It took some effort, but once she was free she sat up and looked around. The gate was crumbled to pieces nearby, the sky was clear, and everything seemed absurdly peaceful.

Baran was sitting nearby, taking the black ball as Marian handed it to him. They both looked awful too, but pleased as well.

"And you enjoy this?" Lily croaked. It felt as though somebody had coated her throat with sand, and she sounded like an Argonian with a particularly bad head cold.

"I'm used to it," Baran replied, turning the ball in his hands. Lily noticed he was being careful not to move too much—more burns? "Is everyone going to live?"

"If there's a stream nearby," Lily said, wiping her hair back.

"There isn't," Jacob grumbled as he got to his feet. "But it's only a few hours to Lake Rumare. Less, if you push those beasts of yours."

Baran took his time standing up, and he cringed the entire time. He mumbled something about needing to wear thicker clothes beneath his armour before asking Marian to help him pull off the mithril shirt. His tunic underneath was criss-crossed with blackened burn marks, and his arms were raw. "Oh, gods, that's better. Let's go."

They all limped to where they hobbled the horses, and all froze at what they saw.

Malatu, Victor and Orinthal were all intact, leisurely chomping at the grass by their feet. Crouched in front of them, however, was a dark, glowering figure.

Lily heard Jake mutter a particularly bad word under his breath.

"Thought you could run from me, Cub? Foolish."

"I could never run from you, Dar'vaba," Jake replied stiffly. "Was business good in Cheydinhal?"

The Khajiit growled softly and pulled his ears back as he slowly stood to full height. "My Speaker is still disappointed that you have not yet decided what to do about the family. Since you were ten and nine you have ignored their offer; he finds it very rude."

"Well, he's an eloquent guy. No wonder he thinks I'm rude. No new contracts?"

"Not now. Tell me, Cub. Why do you travel with these ones?" the assassin asked calmly, waving a clawed hand at the three other ragged travellers.

"Tell me first, Dar'vaba: how'd you know where I was?"

"You did not come with me to Cheydinhal, and you would not be alone. It was obvious you would search for this red one, and they spoke of the Septims. I found these beasts, and one smelled of you. Even you could have figured it out had you been in my place." Dar'vaba growled again, louder this time. "Tell me."

"I'm obligated to stick with them. I broke into the home of the Blades and held the heir to the throne hostage. He said he'd spare my life if I stuck around. So I am. And I guess, since you generally stay with me, you're sticking around too."

The Khajiit's unnaturally green, feline eyes roved slowly over each of them. When he stopped, his ears flattened. "Where have you been, Cub?"

"Oblivion. And I'm hot and tired and probably smell something awful. We're going to Lake Rumare. Now?" he asked hopefully, arching his brows at Baran.

"I'm not waiting any longer," the knight replied, venturing up to the assassin to get to his horse. Dar'vaba didn't stop him, or even move. He simply stood and watched.

"I remember this one," he remarked as Baran untied Malatu and murmured something to the animal. "The Blade. But who is this other one?"

Marian seemed to notice that she was being addressed. She smiled happily at the Khajiit and said, "I'm Marian Clutumnus. Who are you?"

"This one is Dar'vaba."

She gave him a thoughtful look before saying, "Ushnar gro-Shadborgob wouldn't like you," and stepping past him to climb into Orinthal.

Lily wearily trudged up to Victor and untied him from the tree. She clambered tiredly onto his back and waited for Jake. "You coming?" she asked, seeing him hesitate.

"I guess." He hopped up behind her with some difficulty, and looked back at Dar'vaba. "Uh, if you plan on following us, you can beg for a ride or walk."

The cat hissed quietly, and Lily assumed that meant he would walk, so she steered Victor away from the trees and the remains of the Oblivion Gate, and followed Malatu and Orinthal towards the Silver Road.

Baran seemed to silently decide that it was all right to push the horses harder than normal, since they had a good rest since their last ride, and they reached the Red Ring Road in little over an hour. Dar'vaba had somehow made it to the lake before them, and was standing at the shores by the time they emerged from the trees.

Lily waited for Jake to dismount before following and letting Victor wander for a bit on his own. The horses clumped together on a patch of long grass nearby after their owners plopped off and staggered towards the clear waters of Lake Rumare. The White Gold Tower stabbed the clouds in the distance, in the centre of the large lake.

Marian grimaced at the lake after removing her armour and slowly ventured in; clearly she still remembered her experience in Niben Bay and the taste of the water. Baran practically launched into the water and splashed enough to soak Marian. Lily waded cautiously in, still wary after jumping into the waters of Anvil. She learned she wasn't the best of swimmers after that incident. Dar'vaba was standing on an outcrop just above the waves, and didn't notice as Jake lurked up behind him. Lily paused, knee-deep, and giggled as Jake shoved the cat into the water before leaping in after him. The ensuing splashes drenched everyone—well, drenched the girls, as Baran was already submerged.

The water was icy and refreshing, and Lily gratefully sat down so she was still close to the shore and could easily touch the bottom. Nobody had bothered to undress before going in, and her sweaty clothes pulled away from her as the water forced the thin fabric away from her sticky back.

Dar'vaba flailed around for a bit before snarling at Jake and crawling from the water. His fur clung to his body, and he looked so pitiful with his ears drooping. He sat on the sand of the shore, safe from anymore random attacks.

"Very nice," Lily commented as Jake wandered up to her. He was grinning, though she wondered if he could see with his hair hanging wetly in his face.

"Thanks. Why are you just sitting there?" he asked, pushing the dark brown locks from his eyes. Behind him, Baran was absently swimming back and forth in deep water, and Marian was wading out towards him—she was already up to her shoulders.

"I don't really like water. Besides, I can get clean without going out too far."

With incredible speed, Jake's arm shot out. He grabbed her wrist and began towing her further out. "No, that won't do. All farm girls know how to swim, and I doubt you're an exception."

Lily raked the fingers of her free hand into the soft, pliable sand beneath her, to no use. Her heart squeezed with panic as she got deeper and deeper, until her toes couldn't even scrape the bottom.

"Oh, no, no, let me go back," she gasped, trying to tug her wrist from his grip. The water lapped her neck, and it took all her effort not to go overboard in fright.

Jake smirked and loosened his grip, but didn't let go. "Hey, I'm right here and I can swim fine. May have been born in Cheydinhal, but I've spent twenty-five years on the waterfront of the City. It's hard not to swim well after growing up on this lake."

Lily felt a little bad that he was now exiled from the city in which he had been born, but she didn't have the energy to dwell on it. "If I drown, I'll find the energy to become a lich and I will make your life utterly miserable, Jacob Bercarius!"

He merely grinned at her in response. "Your face is filthy."

Lily looked down into the water and panicked a little when she couldn't even _see _the bottom anymore. "I'm not going under there," she said firmly.

Jake took her other hand in his so she was only using her legs to tread water. "I won't let you drown."

"How sweet," she said dryly. "You just don't want to be haunted."

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah. And, like I've said before, I'd be pretty unhappy if you died."

Lily frowned at him before taking a deep breath and letting herself sink beneath the smooth waves. The chilly currents immediately lifted her hair from her neck and gently scrubbed the ash and dirt from her skin. She remained underwater for a few more moments before resurfacing with a gasp.

Her hair flattened against her face, and one of Jake's hands released hers to push it back. He wiped something off her nose—which was probably red and swollen from being catapulted from the Oblivion Gate—before smiling. "Better," he decided. "You still sound raspy, though."

Lily dipped her head back to fix her hair. "So do you," she retorted. "Like you've eaten a bowlful of sand."

"Gross. Though, that'd be better than some of the stuff I've eaten. Ever had ash yams? Not the best. Are you okay on your own for a bit?"

"I suppose."

Jake let go of her and vanished beneath the waves. Lily anxiously treaded water on the spot for a bit before he popped up near to Marian and Baran, whose voices were travelling over the water to her—they were discussing something called a sigil stone, and when Jake swam up to them it sounded like he asked when they would be heading east.

Lily gathered up courage and dunked underwater again, viciously scrubbing at her face and her hair until she decided they would be as clean as they'd get without soap. While Jake was distracted, she decided to turn and swim back to the shore so she didn't tire out and drown.

Once she was back on dry land, she hid behind the rocky outcrop and changed into clean clothes and sat down near Dar'vaba. The cat didn't even acknowledge her presence.

Lily stole a covert glance at him. He must have shaken the water from his fur; he was adorably fluffy despite the scowl on his face, and he was watching the three in the water with narrowed eyes.

"You could just go in there and drown him," Lily said, looking back at the lake.

She felt him jump with surprise. "What?"

"You know, for your contract. I'll bet your family is getting upset that it's been three years since you got it."

Dar'vaba remained silent, and didn't question how she knew about his history with Jacob.

"Or you could kill him at night, when nobody's watching. Or cast a frenzy spell on him in a city so the guards attack him."

Had she imagined his soft purr at that suggestion?

"But I'll have you know," she added softly, smiling when Jake splashed Marian and the woman squeaked in protest, "if you kill him, or if you lay a hand on him while I'll around, I'll kill you myself."

"Big words for a little mage," he growled.

Lily eyed the Khajiit, and saw that he was glaring at her with his ears back. Looking back at the lake, she smoothly replied, "I'm a _priestess_, housecat. Get it right."


	11. The influences of alcohol

The next morning, it was obvious that Jacob had very little sleep because of Dar'vaba's presence. He tried to be his regular self, grinning and making rude jokes—many of which involved the attire donned by Lily and Marian while in the lake the previous day, which was white shirts and dark pants—but he yawned after every second word, and his eyes were bloodshot.

From Lake Rumare, they went back north to the Red Ring Road and followed it east, and then south, and turned east again on the Blue Road to Cheydinhal. Near a doomstone they set up camp again, and Lily noticed that Jake was beginning to look more and more nervous that they were nearing Cheydinhal. And if cats could have smug expressions, one was definitely on the face of Dar'vaba.

In the morning, Jake looked even more haggard, and he stopped joking and started complaining—mostly that he didn't have a razor and was turning into a Khajiit, which made Baran, who was also growing a little beard, laugh and demand that they needed to use a dagger or something of the like.

Which they did, and promptly cut themselves—Baran on his throat, and Jake across his cheek. They both received a scolding from Lily and Marian before the priestess healed them and they continued on.

When they reached the town of Cheydinhal, they abruptly turned north and began to trek through the wilderness, only meeting one spriggan along the way—who was beautiful and graceful even though she was easily overtaken, and the black bear she summoned nearly scared the pants off Lily and Marian, who had never seen one before.

They spent the night on the border of the Jerall Mountain and Nibenay Basin regions. It was midmorning when they followed a narrow, unmarked road to the place Baran needed to be.

He helped them set up a little fire and take care of the horses before giving orders yet again.

"I'm going into Lake Arrius Caverns," he announced after Dar'vaba ventured into the woods under pretences of hunting, though he was probably going to Cheydinhal to visit the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. "Inside is the shrine of Mehrunes Dagon, and this is a favourite hideout of the Mythic Dawn. I'm going in there to find Mankar Camoran and hopefully get the Amulet of Kings back. It's dangerous, so you all need to stay here. I'll be back with the Amulet, and we can finally make Martin the emperor."

Once he left, crashing loudly through the brush, Lily tossed a log onto the fire and remarked, "I have no idea who Mankar Camoran is."

"Probably a bad guy," Jake muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to sleep for a bit. Wake me up when Dar'vaba gets back?"

"

Of course." Lily poked the fire with a thin stick. "Hungry?" she asked, looking up at Marian, who was staring lovingly into the fire.

"Mm? Oh, no, thank you," she refused politely, never taking her eyes from the flames.

Lily dragged one of her saddlebags toward her and dug through it until she found a little bundle of venison. She stuck it on the stick and held it over the fire for a while, watching Marian. "When you met Dar'vaba, what did you mean when you said that Orc wouldn't like him?"

"Ushnar gro-Shadborgob? Oh, he's a man I knew from New Sheoth," she explained distantly. "He's afraid of cats, and that includes Khajiiti. I only met him when I was visiting my cousin in Crucible, and I thought he was a very odd man. Ushnar, that is, not my cousin. Though he's odd too. I wonder if he's died yet."

"Why?"

"Oh, Hirrus is a very depressed person. He thinks nobody likes him. But then, I would be depressed too, if I had to live in Crucible all the time. I tried to convince him to move to Bliss with me, and Orinthal agreed since I hadn't my own house at the time, but…"

Lily shuffled backwards when a little drip of fat fell from the venison and sizzled loudly in the fire. "Orinthal? Is that the person you named your horse for?"

Marian nodded and blinked slowly before looking up from the fire. "Yes. He was a very good friend of mine. He was obsessed with numbers, and would always greet me in the morning with exactly how many minutes I slept that night. I never understood his fascination with numbers… fires, though, those are always interesting." She sighed softly and returned her gaze to the flames. "Other than my lord Sheogorath and my family, I miss him the most."

Lily observed her for some time. Though she was growing to really like the woman, she still couldn't help but resent her for her beauty. There seemed to be nothing at all wrong with her—outwardly at least. It was hard to escape the fact that as soon as she opened her mouth, she made it more than clear that she was insane.

When she thought the venison was done some time later, she pulled it from the fire and held it in the air to let it cool. She waved it around to ease her boredom. After being attacked by bandits, witnessing the breaking-and-entering of an impenetrable fortress, and helping close a portal to hell, her life seemed terribly mundane.

Of course, as luck would have it, just then Dar'vaba thought it was time to return to the camp. As soon as she spotted the brown cat coming towards them, Lily nudged Jake's arm, and he was awake almost immediately.

"Oh, damn," he muttered, seeing Dar'vaba. He scowled for no more than a split second, and it was followed by a huge grin. "Oh, _damn!_" he exclaimed again, happily this time. "Aw, kitty, have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"That is something I can live without, Cub," Dar'vaba said, coming up to the camp with a bag slung over his shoulder. He sat down a safe distance from the others and set the bag in his lap. Jake practically lunged for the bag, and Lily found out why when he emerged a moment later with two bottles of mead in his hand.

"Ooh, do you have Fellmoor spore wine?" Marian asked delightedly upon seeing the bottles.

Jacob frowned as he sat back down and shoved a bottle into Lily's hand. "What now?"

"That does not sound appetizing," mumbled Dar'vaba as he pushed the bag off his lap and opened up a sugary-smelling drink. "Spore?"

Lily arched her brows at the brandy in her hands, and she grimaced without meaning to. "It's before noon. You two are thinking of drinking _now?_"

Jake leaned in close to her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "He'll be out after one drink," he murmured, too quietly for anyone but her to hear. "And he'll be out for a long time. Then I can conk out and have a peaceful sleep."

As he pulled back, Lily muttered, "And a headache."

"Ah, but you can fix that, Lil. You're the priestess." He cracked open one of the bottles of mead and clanked the glass against Dar'vaba's. "Bottoms up, cat."

Lily shook her head and ignored them, choosing instead to gnaw on the venison. Across the fire, Marian was watching them with wide, bewildered eyes.

Her nose twitched delicately, and she remarked, "That smells like Caldana Monrius. Is that skooma?"

The Khajiit _almost _smiled. "It has a small bit of moon sugar in it, but it is not skooma."

And that small bit of moon sugar was enough. Halfway through the bottle, Dar'vaba collapsed in a furry heap beside Jacob and was quite unconscious.

Jake prodded him in the chest to make sure of it before grabbing up the bottle and firmly corking it. Marian chuckled as she watched him, and she said, "I'm surprised you're not going to finish it for him."

He shuddered and shook his head. "No way in hell. I've had way too many problems with skooma and moon sugar. You're more than welcome to it. I'll stick to your generic booze, thanks."

Too curious not to ask, Lily quizzed, "Any of that skooma and moon sugar have to do with your sordid past?"

He flashed her a grin and made himself comfortable beside her. "I had a whole bottle of skooma to myself before killing my friend in the fort, and I was _still _high when the Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood showed up to invite me to the family. Probably made a horrible impression on them after that."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't remember most of it, but I think I said something about flapping my arms and flying to Cheydinhal when I made my decision."

Lily rolled her eyes and tossed the remnants of the venison into the fire. "Good for you."

"Plus I was nineteen," he said, pressing the bottle of mead to his lips. "Everyone says stupid shit when they're nineteen. Except you, I bet. You were probably reading banned books and picking corn and wishing some strapping Imperial lad would show up to tell you to become a priestess when you were nineteen."

"Jake, I was nineteen at the beginning of this year. I only turned twenty on the seventh of Rain's Hand."

His dark brown eyes widened at this revelation. "Really? Hell, you were one mature seventeen year old then." He took another swig from the bottle and vigorously shook his head. "Woo, I feel great! And—and I'm a lot older than you than I thought, then. Nine years? Nine years. Nine Divine! Ha! And practically to the month too, since Second Seed is right after Rain's Hand."

"I'm glad you figured it out," she murmured, tossing the stick she had used to cook the venison into the fire, which had once again trapped Marian. "You should probably stop drinking before you make a fool of yourself."

She might have misheard, but she thought Marian giggled and whispered something like, "He's already a fool."

By the time he finished both bottles and was halfway through a third, he was loudly and dramatically reciting a rather inappropriate scene from Crassius Curio's _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. Lily had respectfully declined when he offered for her to say Lifts-Her-Tail's lines, so he ended up doing the Argonian's and Crantius Colto's in increasingly exaggerated voices.

Marian nearly fell into the fire with hilarity when he began act four, scene three, and Lily couldn't help but collapse in a fit of giggles, even though she wondered in the back of her mind how he knew the play so well.

"So you are, my dumpling. And a good one at that. Such strong legs and shapely tail," Jake exclaimed in a pompous, haughty version of his own accent.

"J-J-Jake," Lily stammered through laughter that made her gut hurt, "you're going to—to wake up Dar'vaba!"

"I don't th-th-think that's p-possible!" Marian snorted. Her face was red, and she was doubled over, but Jake continued the play—"_You embarrass me, sir!_" Lifts-Her-Tail was saying in a very creepy, raspy voice that was too high for him to do properly—and for once, Marian didn't seem to notice the nearby fire at all.

"Fear not! You are safe here with me!" Crantius Colto said through Jacob Bercarius.

Lily wiped her eyes and wondered if she and Marian had something to drink and just didn't remember it. She couldn't remember Jake being this hilarious the only other time he had been drunk around her—he had just been embarrassing then. Of course, they had been in a very full tavern that time. Here, they were alone in the woods with nobody to judge them.

Somewhere in her musings, Lifts-Her-Tail had spoken again—"_I must finish my cleaning, sir. The mistress will have my head if I do not!_"—and now Jake gestured rudely to his crotch and bellowed, "Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my spear!"

"This is a _play?_" Marian squeaked. "This seems like something my lord would _love!_"

"By the gods, what happened here?"

Jake immediately stopped reciting the bawdy scene and swayed a bit before falling back on a bit of moss near Lily. "Hello, Mr Hero of Kvatch!" he shouted, waving enthusiastically. "You got back just in time! The next scene is _so _good!"

Lily bit her lip and grinned up at Baran as he approached, a large book under one arm. She could only imagine what he saw before him—one unconscious Khajiit reeking of moon sugar, two red-faced girls giggling helplessly, and one very drunk Imperial who could barely stand on his own.

"Dar'vaba went to Cheydinhal and got alcohol," Lily explained, trying desperately to keep her giggles under control. "You know how the Khajiiti are—he barely lasted ten minutes. And Jake was just amusing us."

The corner of Baran's mouth twitched upwards, but otherwise he remained stoic. "I swear I could've heard you all yelling from inside the shrine," he remarked, tucking the book away in one of his saddlebags and sitting down beside Marian. "It's amazing you weren't swarmed by the Mythic Dawn."

Lily beamed and wrapped an arm around Jake's shoulders. "Crantius could've fought them off with his giant spear."

Baran merely watched her with a carefully blank expression. "Were you drinking too?"

"Not one drop. What's that book you had?"

"Oh, Camoran got away before I could get to him, and he took the Amulet with him, so I got the next best thing—the book telling me how to _get _to him when he's in his Paradise. It's called the _Mysterium Xarxes_, apparently. I read a bit of it. Something about Mehrunes Dagon coming to Tamriel, or something."

"It explains it in Tamrielic?" Lily asked, flabbergasted. She didn't even notice that Jake was leaning on her, still mumbling about Crantius Colto and Lifts-Her-Tail.

Baran shook his head. "No, it's in Daedric runes, but I can translate some of it. I got enough to read, '_Of bold Oblivion fire who finds you for Lord Dagon forever reborn in blood and fire from the waters of Oblivion_,' when I was hiking back through the forest. I'll give it to Martin when I get back to Cloud Ruler Temple. He's drooling on your shoulder."

Lily glanced down at Jake and pushed him away, and he managed to sit on his own again. "Why don't you read more now? It seems interesting."

"I would, but… I'm a little afraid to. The book screamed at me before, so I think I'll leave that up to Martin."

"It screamed at you?" Marian asked, her giggles having subsided.

"It did _something_ when I started reading it. That happened when I closed my first Oblivion Gate, the one in Kvatch." He shrugged and leaned against a tree behind him. "I touched the sigil stone and it sounded like it screamed. I don't trust Daedric artefacts after that."

"Oh. Should we leave, then, if the Mythic Dawn are in there?" Lily asked, nervously glancing toward where the caverns were located.

"No, they're all dead. I made sure of it before coming out here, just in case. We can stay here long enough for the boys to get recovered," Baran offered, arching his brows at Jake, who had given up _The Lusty Argonian Maid _for a quiet but still enthusiastic rendition of _A Less Rude Song._ "But I wouldn't recommend staying much longer than that, in case more show up. Anyways, you seem to have a hold on things here, so I'm going to explore for a while." Baran jumped back to his feet and waved at Marian and Lily. "See you later."

Once he was gone, Jake chuckled and pulled at the sleeve of Lily's shirt, mumbling, "Whatever your odd needs: feathered, scaled or finned, you'll find it all in Morrowind."

"We're in Cyrodiil, dear," Lily said, gently pushing his hand away.

He only grinned wider and continued to a jaunty tune, "It's an invention of bards that Bretons and Redguards have more than some staid fun and suffer deviant fornication. Hm, sweet little Breton, is it true?"

Lily felt herself blush. "I wouldn't know about Bretons, as I've never been involved in any way with one of my own," she replied, pushing him away again when he pulled the collar of her shirt. "But Redguards—definitely true. Very enthusiastic lovers. Lots of stamina."

Jake snorted. "You're a terrible priestess, you know that?"

"I wasn't _always _a priestess."

"And what about Imperials, hm? The song doesn't really say much about them."

Lily sighed and smirked at him. "Imperials? They're boring as hell. You'd get more action out of a dead Sload."

Jake looked genuinely hurt. "Ouch, that cut me deep, Lil."

"Well, it wasn't a personal insult. It was more… insulting your race as a whole," she corrected, grinning at his expression. "Of course, you all make up for it by being _charming _as hell too. It's the only way any of you can get someone into bed."

"Ah, well, at least we have that." He smiled in a cute, little boyish way at her, and she chuckled softly.

"Baran was right," she murmured. "This is either very bad or very upfront flirting."

Jake ruffled a hand through his hair and smiled drunkenly. "Is it working?"

Lily glanced at Marian to see if she was transfixed by the fire again—which she was—before lifting one eyebrow at Jake. "A little."

Jacob giggled in a way that only drunk men can. "You're adorable when you blush, Lil. And you're pretty anyways."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. I'll continue this later," he said, pointing firmly at her. "But right now I'm feeling sick, so I'm going to sleep this off." And without further adieu, he curled up on the moss beside her and promptly fell asleep.

Lily leaned back and looked into the fire, and when she saw Marian smile the tiniest bit, she sighed heavily and fell back against her saddlebags.

—

It was nightfall when Baran came crashing through the trees again. With a contented sigh, he sat down beside Marian and pulled off his armour to ease the burns on his arms. "Well, that was fun," he decided.

"Find anything exciting?" Lily wondered as she handed bread to Jake—he had woke up an hour before, giddy with the remnants of his drunkenness, but groaning with a head-splitting hangover. Dar'vaba was stirring, but he hadn't officially woke up yet.

"Nothing in the way of ruins or caves—and I wasn't in the mood for spelunking anyways. But I met some bandits, spriggans, and even a few minotaur. It was pretty good. Things been all well here?"

Marian chortled and said cheerfully, "Jake kissed Lily."

Baran turned a questioning eye on Lily, and she glowered at Marian as a blush blossomed on her cheeks. "He was still drunk when he woke up, and when I went to fix his hangover, he did it. This is why people shouldn't drink."

"You drink," Jacob pointed out through a mouthful of bread. He seemed completely sober now, and wasn't at all abashed by his intoxicated antics. "And I heard about the time when you danced with that rat woman in the Count's Arms."

"That isn't the same," she snapped. "And _I_ didn't kiss her."

"You liked it."

"Oh, shut your mouth, Bercarius."

"Listen to you two," Baran chuckled, "like an old married couple."

"You shut up too," Lily muttered. "When are we leaving?"

The knight rolled his eyes. "Whenever the Khajiit wakes up. I know he isn't really with us, but it wouldn't be very nice to leave him out here. Did you want to look at Cheydinhal, Sister?"

Lily nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yes, I did. I'll bring Marian with me, since she's never seen it and Jake can't go inside city walls. Will you wait with him?"

"I suppose. We can have a little chat about how priestesses serve gods and not men."

"Bad priestess," Jake said, gesturing to Lily. "She's screwed around with Redguards. And dead Sloads, apparently."

"Well, at least the dead Sload was better than the Imperial," she retorted sweetly.

Baran choked on water he had been attempting to drink. Slapping a hand over his face to wipe off the spilled drink, he gawked at Lily and said, "Wow, you are _vicious_."

"Did that go out your nose?" Marian asked distractedly.

"Yeah." Baran shuddered and rubbed the water off his face with his sleeve. "Really, Sister, not all Imperials are horrible."

"I never said they were _horrible_—I just said they weren't as good as dead Sloads. I'm sure Orcs are worse. Or better, if you like big green brutes."

"Like Ushnar!"

"Exactly."

Baran shook his head and smiled at Lily in disbelief. "He's right—you're a bad priestess. So, what's your hierarchy of good bedroom companions?"

Lily ran her tongue over her lips as she pondered it, but regretted it—she tasted like mead. "Redguards, Bretons, Nords, Dunmer, Altmer, Bosmer, Sloads—" At that, she smirked at Jacob. "Khajiiti, Argonians, dead Sloads, Imperials, Orcs. Of course, I'm biased. I'm only guessing about Bretons, and I don't like the high and mighty Altmer."

"So if that's how you think it is," Jake said calmly, "why do you like Marty?"

Lily stubbornly stared into the fire so she didn't have to meet his eye. "He's one of those Imperials with charm, unlike you."

Baran chuckled and shook his head again. "You two are perfect for each other."

Lily snorted.

The knight sighed and pulled his bedroll from the saddlebags behind him. "Whatever, I'm going to sleep. Can one or both of you stay up tonight?"

The redhead nodded her assent, and Baran and the Manic made themselves comfortable on the grassy patch they made camp at. Dar'vaba was still in the same place as before, but he had probably moved from unconsciousness to sleep long ago.

Silence overtook the camp for quite a while. The fire burned down but was still crackling merrily, and other than the noises of the night, the Khajiit purred softly in his sleep and Baran snored occasionally. It was quite peaceful, considering what their travels had consisted of in the past.

Jake broke the silence by scooting forward and stoking the fire with a stick. As fluttering orange sparks danced into the air, he remarked, "It's really easy to embarrass you."

"I know. You seem to enjoy it quite a bit," she said dryly.

"I don't _mean _to. Okay, well, sometimes I do," he corrected, laughing when she shot him a dark glare. "Sorry if I embarrassed you when I was drunk, by the way. I didn't really know what I was saying."

"Do you remember?"

"Perfectly. And I do particularly recall you saying that my stupid flirting was working." He smirked at her almost triumphantly. "I must've done something right."

"It was your Imperial tricks," she muttered, watching him under partially lowered lids. "Whatever compelled you to kiss me?"

Jake sat in front of her and tilted her chin up so she was eye level with him. This close, she could see the long, thin cut on his cheek where he had hurt himself trying to shave with the dagger. Very lightly, he cupped her face with his hands. "You did that to me, when you were going to fix my hangover," he said simply. "And I got all warm 'cause of the spell…"

Lily was quite warm herself, but she shivered involuntarily anyways. It felt as though somebody had turned her heart into a butterfly, and it was fluttering about in her chest, trying to get out.

"Jake, what are you…" she started to ask, but she let her sentence run dry when he gave her the innocent, child's smile again.

It started as a simple brush of their lips, and Lily almost jerked away. She didn't, but she shivered again when one of his hands moved down to the small of her back and the other lightly touched her neck. Goosebumps popped up over her arms at the gentle caress.

Just when she started warming up to it, she heard him softly humming _A Less Rude Song_. _That _had to be something to look out for.

She didn't have to, however. Something scratched her, and she yanked back in surprise and gasped. "Ouch!" she hissed, rubbing her cheek. "That hurt!"

Jake smirked in that smug way of his and he reached up to run his hand over his cheek. "What, this?" He grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward him, and she couldn't decide if she wanted to fight it or not. She probably should have, she thought, as Jake rubbed his cheek against hers. The stubble rasped painfully against her face, and she squealed and tried to roll away. He easily held her still and nuzzled against her, scratching her again.

"You ass, that hurts!" she squeaked, pushing pathetically at him.

"What, this?" he said again, and scraped the stubble against her cheek again.

An exasperated groan rose above her badly stifled giggles. "By the gods, would you two keep it down?" Baran mumbled sleepily. He lifted himself onto one elbow and glowered at the two of them. "You're going to keep the whole forest awake."

Lily bit her lip and smiled awkwardly at Baran. He huffed tiredly and fell back into his bedroll. She pulled her hand away from Jacob's and rubbed her face. "This is ridiculous," she mumbled into her hands. "Completely and utterly ridiculous. I'm a _priestess_."

Jake remained silent. Too embarrassed at her behaviour to look at him just yet, Lily pressed her forehead into her arm and didn't say another word until Baran exchanged guard shifts with them many hours later.

And even then, her sleep was restless.

When the cloudy, overcast morning came, she was tired and irritable, and the ride from Lake Arrius Caverns to Cheydinhal was absolutely miserable. Jacob absolutely refused to ride a horse this time around, and he walked with Dar'vaba ahead of the rest of them. Lily appreciated that he was giving her some time to think, and she wondered when it became possible for thieves to be gentlemen.

At the gates of Cheydinhal, they stabled the horses, and Lily and Marian left the two men behind to explore the city after promising to return after a few hours; Dar'vaba had slipped into the town while they were putting the horses in the paddock.

Her morning grumpiness immediately vanished when she stepped into the city of Cheydinhal. A little river trickled through the town, and the tall stone buildings were pleasantly coloured. People smiled at the two of them as they passed over a little bridge, though one Orc glowered at their dirty hands and the leaves clinging to their clothes from their time spent outside. Despite the darkness of the day, the city was incredibly beautiful.

Lily and Marian simply wandered around outside, where Marian would ask about certain plants and bugs she had never seen before, and Lily would explain what they were. They were so immersed in a vine of morning glory—Marian couldn't understand how such a pretty thing could possibly be poisonous—that they didn't see the storm coming before it hit.

The sky seemed to crack in half and unleash a flurry of rain and a gale in an instant. Before Lily realized what was happening, Marian shrieked and sprinted away, and she was immediately lost to the water pelting from the sky.

"Marian?" Lily called, looking after where the woman had retreated. Her hair was already soaked; she wiped it back and ventured out from underneath a little awning they had been standing under. "Marian!" Her voice was swallowed by the furious patter of rain smacking the ground, and the storm seemed laugh at her when thunder rolled over the city far above. The citizens of Cheydinhal were all retreated back into their homes to wait it out; she felt utterly alone.

Lily screamed when she felt something brush against her back, and a low, cultured voice behind her softly said, "Would you like some assistance, my dear?"

She breathed a sigh of relief hearing the familiar accent of a Breton, but when she turned to see the dark-haired man behind her, she couldn't find the strength to move.

The little smile on his ashen lips made her colder than the rain ever could have. "Please do not let my appearance unnerve you," the man murmured. "I understand you are acquainted with a brother of mine. If you could spare the time, my family would love to have a few words with you." The glint in his pale red eyes suggested that something other than discussion was in mind.

A hand lightly touched her back, and she walked mechanically in front of the vampire toward a boarded up house, far from prying eyes.


	12. A brotherhood born in darkness

Vampires were supposed to be bloodthirsty monsters, not gentlemen. Vampires weren't supposed to formally introduce themselves as Vicente Valtieri, Executioner to the Night Mother's unholy wishes. Vampires weren't supposed to bow formally and speak politely. Vampires weren't supposed to offer their captives refreshments of the highest quality.

And yet, that's exactly what the dark-haired Breton did after bringing Lily through the abandoned house, past a sinister red door, and down a long, black hallway to his personal quarters.

"I understand this must be terribly confusing for you, my dear," he said in that soft-spoken way as he paced the stone room in front of her. "My brothers will arrive shortly to explain things."

Lily sat stiffly in the wooden chair, with plates and goblets left untouched on the table before her.

"What seems to be the problem, miss? Cat burglar got your tongue?" He chortled at his own joke.

Lily remained silent, not out of defiance, but out of pure terror.

The vampire clucked his tongue and sat down across from her. Lily flinched at their close proximity, but either he didn't notice or he didn't care. "May I ask your name? I'm afraid my dear brother didn't tell me when he said you were in the city."

"L-Lily Laroque."

"Ah, so you can speak. Well, I am sure you have guessed by now, but this is the Cheydinhal Sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood. We are, in simple terms, assassins."

"I know. I-Is your brother Dar'vaba?" she asked quietly.

"Indeed he is. He showed up at the Sanctuary some hours ago to tell the mistress and I that the friend of a friend was in the city. You intrigued us, to be sure. And don't worry; we don't intend to harm you."

"Wh-What do you plan on doing with me then?" Lily carefully looked up, and saw the vampire smiling politely at her.

He gracefully folded his hands on the table in front of him. "I'm not sure, myself. The Speaker will decide once he arrives, but if I was to place a guess, I would say that we only need you to remain here for a few hours. Perhaps once the storm has let up you may leave."

The thick, heavy doors separating his chambers from the rest of the dark haven creaked open, and three figures strode into the room. Dar'vaba was in the back, scowling at Lily as he entered the room. The two in the front she had never seen before, and she never wanted to see again. One was an Argonian woman in tight black armour, and the other was a tall man clad entirely in black, from robe to hood. Lily shrunk back in her seat at the sight of them, and Valtieri rose to greet them.

"So, this is the girl," the Argonian croaked. She approached Lily and gave her a long look. "What have you told her, Vicente?"

"Only my name and who we are. I thought our Speaker would like the honour of the rest."

The black-clad man smiled icily. "Thank you, Vicente. And who is this child?"

"Lily Laroque," the vampire dutifully reported.

The Argonian stepped forward and the large red eyes blinked solemnly. "I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. This is Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Black Hand," she said, waving a hand towards the man.

Lily must have flinched or gasped or done _something_, for the man chuckled softly and murmured, "You have heard of me, I see. My name is not one that is casually strewn about in conversation; Jacob Bercarius must have told you of me, and his relationship with the Brotherhood."

"H-He has…" she mumbled, looking down at the table.

"Please humour me, Miss Laroque—what exactly has he said to you concerning the Brotherhood?"

Lily licked her lips and focussed her attention on a knot in the wooden table. "He… he said he killed someone when he was nineteen, and a Speaker came to invite him to join the Dark Brotherhood. He hasn't accepted or rejected, and a contract was put on him three years ago, with Dar'vaba as his assassin. Dar'vaba didn't succeed, and Jake hasn't given you a definite answer yet."

"May I explain further? Jacob Bercarius is a thorn in the side of the Black Hand," Lachance said, standing like a statue in front of her. "Dar'vaba is one of the Sanctuary's most gifted assassins, and yet we are wary of giving him more contracts since it has taken him three years to yet complete a relatively simple one. We are also aware of Bercarius' involvement with the Thieves Guild, but he is an accomplished killer. He can move with the silence and grace of a murderer, and we know he would be an asset to us if only he would join."

The dark Imperial paused, probably for dramatic effect. If so, it worked. The hair on Lily's arms was standing on end, and her palms were damp despite the iciness of the Sanctuary.

"But he has yet to give us 'a definite answer' as you said," he continued, smirking somewhat at Lily. His dark eyes stared unnervingly at her all the while. "So we are limiting a fine assassin by refusing to give him contracts, and we are wasting energy on a man who could potentially become a brother to our dark family.

"And now you must wonder why we have brought you here."

Lily didn't move or speak.

"In his recent travels with Jacob Bercarius, Dar'vaba has informed Ocheeva of a Breton priestess the thief makes his company with," Lachance explained softly. "Evidently Bercarius is quite attached to you, and would break into Imperial fortresses just to see you. Well, if he would risk the wrath of the Blades to see his darling priestess, why wouldn't he risk the wrath of the Brotherhood to save her from potential danger?"

It felt as though Lucien Lachance tore out her heart with those simple words. "I'm bait," she whispered, staring at him in horror.

"You are the esteemed guest of the Dark Brotherhood, pet," he corrected with a menacing smile. "Of course, Bercarius may think otherwise once he learns of your whereabouts. The Black Hand is finished with Jacob Bercarius. While he may be a fine prospective killer, we are wasting far too many resources on him. And if we cannot kill him afar, why not do it from the comfort of our own home?

"So please, Miss Laroque, make yourself at home. I will return later, to attend to business." With a little bow, Lucien Lachance vanished entirely and Lily was left in the room with Vicente Valtieri, Ocheeva and Dar'vaba.

Ocheeva was the next to excuse herself. She left the room in utter silence, and shut the large slab doors behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Lily glared at the Khajiit and spat, "You unimaginable _bastard_. You handed me over to the Dark Brotherhood just because you can't finish your own contract?"

Dar'vaba watched her impassively.

"You're pathetic," she snarled as fury mounted inside her. "Is it that you don't have the skill to kill him, or the courage? Have you spent too long with him—would you actually _care _if he was dead? Would the big bad Khajiit show some damn emotion for once?"

She didn't even notice that Vicente Valtieri was still with them, and was watching her with mild interest.

"You sicken me," she said, glowering up at the stoic Khajiit. "You're a pathetic excuse of an assassin; you can't even kill your own victims. You're nothing more than a flea-bitten _housecat_."

Whatever followed happened too quickly for Lily to say she truly knew what went on. She saw Dar'vaba give her a glare of passionate hatred, and next thing she knew the table and chairs had been knocked over, and she was laying on her back on the floor, with one clawed hand clamped firmly on her neck, pinning her to the ground and slowly choking the life from her.

"Let her go, brother," Valtieri ordered desperately, but his pleas went unheeded.

Lily pawed uselessly against the strong hand squeezing her throat. Dar'vaba was so close she could see the loathing in his eyes and smell the old meat on his breath. "You said it twice, filthy mage," he hissed, crouching low over her. His whiskers tickled her face. "Speak it again and you will meet your beloved Akatosh. Say it."

Despite the terror shooting through her and the lack of air reaching her lungs, Lily mustered up whatever courage she had left. Eyelids fluttering against blackening vision, she stammered, "I… I already t-told you… I'm a _p-priestess_… h-house… cat."

In a flash of pain, the world went black.

—

"Come now, time to wake up. Lucien can't have you all bloody when that Bercarius fellow shows up. That might take away from the whole 'guest' idea."

Lily opened her eyes and found herself staring into the smiling face of a pretty blonde Breton. Without moving too much, she looked around and saw that she was in a relatively large room filled with tables, cupboards and beds, one of which she was laying on. Her cheek and mouth were throbbing painfully, and she felt the tickle of blood slipping down from gouges on her face.

"Don't move, dear," the blonde said cheerily. "I'm Antoinetta Marie, and Ocheeva told me to look after you for a while. You can call me Antoinetta, of course."

"What happened?" Lily wanted to ask, but she could do little more than croak before a fresh gust of pain overwhelmed her. Her neck still hurt, but it was overpowered by the scratches on her face.

"Vicente only gave me the bare details, but he said that you were taunting Dar'vaba, and he choked and hit you," she explained, still smiling as though they were on a picnic. "Never mess with Dar'vaba, dear. He isn't the friendliest of Khajiit. But don't worry; he got in trouble for attacking you. Vicente, Ocheeva and Lucien aren't at all happy at what he did. Anyways, I can heal you up in a jiffy. Don't talk, okay? You might make it worse."

_Make what worse!_ Lily looked at her pleadingly, but she didn't dare open her mouth again.

Antoinetta exhaled shortly and gently placed her hands on Lily's right cheek. The Breton didn't seem to care that blood was seeping into her gloves. Screwing up her face in concentration, her hands glowed briefly and Lily felt the torn flesh stitch itself up in an instant.

"All better!" Antoinetta leaned back and gave Lily room to sit up, which she slowly did.

She reached up and lightly touched her cheek to feel the wounds—four scratches from Dar'vaba's claws, and a knot of healed tissue in the corner of her mouth where one claw apparently caught and ripped. Lily shuddered and shut her eyes, hating that she was vain enough to want to weep at the feel of the fresh scars. She could handle the scar on her throat from the dremora, or the thin line on the side of her face and on her scalp, both from the highwaymen—those marks weren't in the open, like the cuts on her cheek.

The blonde's smile faltered when she saw Lily feeling her wounds. "I'm sure there are some scar-minimizing potions available somewhere. Like Black Marsh or… High Rock, since there's so many mages there."

"Thanks," Lily whispered, dropping her hands to her lap.

"Gogron, where's that cloth I asked for?" Antoinetta chirped, smiling over at the table on the other side of the room.

A heavily armoured Orc stood from one of the seats and hurried over with a little square rag in his big green hand. "Here you are, Annie," he announced, handing it to her.

"I told you to stop calling me that, Gogron," the woman muttered as she took the cloth. "I thought you were out on a contract."

"No, no, that's Telaendril. And it's not really a contract, apparently."

Antoinetta giggled like a delighted bird. "Really? She probably lied—no doubt she wants to escape your constant attention."

The Orc looked offended. "Hey, I've got her undies—you want to see?"

"Nobody wants to see that, Gogron," an Argonian said as he entered the sleeping area. He wore the same black armour as Ocheeva and Antoinetta, though he wore a hood over his head. "That's Telaendril's business."

"I agree with Teinaava," Marie announced as she gently wiped the blood from Lily's face. "We really don't want to hear anything about an Orc and a Wood Elf. That's an awful combination, like an Argonian and a Khajiit."

Gogron huffed exasperatedly. "We're both mer, so it works. Bos_mer_, Orsi_mer_?"

"Speaking of Khajiit," the hooded Argonian called Teinaava said, "has anyone seen M'raaj-Dar? He was saving some apples for me from Lucien's private stock."

"That's why it's not a contract!" the Orc boomed, grinning at his companions, all of whom were clumped around Lily's bed now, though none seemed to see her. "Telaendril and M'raaj-Dar went to do some work for Lucien and Ocheeva. And Vicente, I guess…"

"What in Oblivion would they be doing for Lucien and Ocheeva?" Antoinetta wondered curiously.

The Orc pondered it as the Breton and the Argonian watched him expectantly. "Hm, well, if I remember right, Dar'vaba went with them too. Going to get that fellow Vaba's been hunting for the past three or four years now, so he can't get away this time."

"Convenient," Teinaava mused. "We should just start bringing our contracts here and killing them before our brothers and sisters."

Lily glanced between the assassins and tried not to let her terror show on her face. Witnesses were a wonderful thing—except when they were all cold-blooded killers.

Though, these weren't the cold-blooded killers she imagined the Dark Brotherhood to be. She expected them all to be shady and dark like Lucien Lachance—but Antoinetta Marie was friendly and happy, Gogron the Orc was kind and rather funny for a barbarian, Teinaava seemed light-hearted, and Vicente Valtieri was polite and a gentleman. She couldn't put judgement on Ocheeva, Telaendril or M'raaj-Dar, but maybe they were all nice too.

Gogron's little eyes turned toward Lily. "So, Antoinetta, is this the girl Ocheeva had Vicente find?"

"Yes, this is Lily Laroque, according to Vicente. He only told me that she's a friend of Dar'vaba's victim."

"Ah! Lily Laroque, I'm Gogron gro-Bolmog!"

"Teinaava, the egg mate of Ocheeva."

Antoinetta smiled girlishly. "And you know me. M'raaj-Dar is a Khajiit mage and the only one who Dar'vaba really gets along with, and Telaendril is our own little archer."

"I don't understand why Ocheeva wanted Vicente to get her during the day," Teinaava mentioned, changing the subject yet again. "She knows he's a vampire, and she knows the sun will hurt him."

"Have you been outside yet today, Teinaava? It's nearly dark as night out there! Would you rather Ocheeva send someone less discreet? Besides, it's raining like you wouldn't believe," Gogron exclaimed.

The lizard made an expression that could be interpreted as a smile. "I know it's raining. Water is falling in through the well, and the dark guardian is having a hard time keeping up with the puddles."

"It'll get worse once Telaendril, M'raaj-Dar and Dar'vaba get back," Antoinetta remarked, shaking her head. "They'll be soaked. Are they actually going to get that fellow?"

"No, no," the Orc said. "I overheard Dar'vaba tell Ocheeva that this little lady promised to return to the stables after a few hours. It's been a few hours. That Bercarius lad probably went looking for her, and he'll be intercepted by Telaendril, M'raaj-Dar and Dar'vaba, so he'll end up here. See, this is why Ocheeva's mistress of the Sanctuary. She's so clever. Lucky you, having a sister like that," he said, nudging Teinaava.

The nearby door creaked open and a skeleton trudged a few steps in. It made a strange noise and gestured slowly towards the main room, and Antoinetta hopped to her feet.

"Oh, wonderful! They're back," she announced as the skeleton left. "Come on, boys, this will be fun!"

"You just want to see Lucien before you leave for your contract," Gorgon teased.

Antoinetta shot something back at him, but Lily didn't hear it as the two left the living area. Teinaava nodded slightly and gave her a long stare, similar to his sister. "You should come too," he said. "Lucien and Ocheeva will want you there."

Lily reluctantly got to her feet and followed the Argonian from the bedroom. She held her breath as she stepped through the doors into the main hall, and let it out in one long whoosh when she saw the congregation before her.

Dar'vaba and a different Khajiit—probably this M'raaj-Dar—each held one of Jacob's arms, and they stood before Lucien Lachance and Ocheeva. A Bosmer, presumably Telaendril, stood near them, with Vicente Valtieri beside her. Antoinetta, Gogron and Teinaava were keeping a safe distance, and even the skeleton and a fat rat watched in silence.

"Oh, no…" she murmured upon seeing Jake. He had a fat lip, and one of his eyelids was purple and puffy, squeezing shut as it swelled.

All eyes in the room turned on her at once, and Lucien Lachance gave her a cold smile. "Miss Laroque, how kind of you to join us. _Tsk_, Assassin, was that your doing?" he asked, looking over to Dar'vaba after frowning at her new scars.

"I apologize, Speaker," the cat growled. "My temper got better of me."

"And in any other time that would be well, Assassin," Ocheeva said gravely.

"Guardian," Lucien said, and the skeleton lurched forward. "Take Miss Laroque and Mr Bercarius to the living area, would you? I suppose they deserve some time to speak before we continue."

The two Khajiiti reluctantly pried their paws off Jake's arms when the dark guardian went to lead him to the bedrooms behind Lily. Once the doors were shut so Lily, Jake and the skeleton were the only ones in the room, she immediately wrapped her arms around Jake's waist even though he was soaked through from the rain.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, pressing her forehead against his chest.

She felt him hug her in return. "I'm great. How are you?"

Lily didn't want to move; if she did, he'd have a chance to really see her scars. "Fine. What happened to you? Did they hurt you?"

Jake sighed and leaned his chin on her head. "No, that was Baran. They didn't do a thing to me."

Surprise made her arch away from him. "Baran?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "Why would _he _hit you?"

Lily shut her eyes when she saw his gaze move to the marks on her cheek. "Marian came back a few hours after you left, and we got her into the stable shed so she wouldn't be so goddamn afraid of the rain. She said she didn't know where you were, but you had last been near the chapel, looking at 'pretty poison,' as she said."

"Morning glory," Lily murmured.

"Ah. Well, I said we should go in to get you, so you didn't get lost in a foreign city in the rain, and Baran said that was stupid, and we should just wait. After all, didn't I have problems in Cheydinhal?" The spite was hard to miss. "I tried to tell him I lived here 'til I was five and knew the place better than my own face, but he said it was too dangerous. I called him a coward. He punched me. We got in a bit of a fight. He told me that I was stupid for wanting to go into the town if the Dark Brotherhood was there, and he said he was taking Marian and they were going back to Cloud Ruler Temple to deliver that book to Marty. I went into town and met up with some of the Brotherhood. And here we are."

Lily opened her eyes and turned her face away. "He left?"

"Yeah. He'll come back. He's got Blade business, I guess. How'd you get here?"

"Vicente Valtieri met me outside after Marian left, and he brought me here. That's about all that happened. Oh, Dar'vaba hit me," she added, looking at the wall.

Jake reached out and turned her face back toward him. Lily stared at the cut in his swollen lip so she didn't have to look into his eyes. He stayed quiet for a long time before sighing softly. "I'll kill him," he murmured.

"He'll kill you. That's why I was brought here."

"I know. We should go."

The skeleton seemed to understand that they were done speaking, and it pushed the doors open for them. Before he went to join the Khajiiti again, Lily whispered, "Lachance won't kill you if you join them."

He didn't say anything. A moment later, Dar'vaba and M'raaj-Dar were holding him still once again.

Lily didn't really hear it when Lucien Lachance began to talk about the problems Jake caused for the Brotherhood. Jacob simply stood there and watched Lachance without much of an expression. It seemed like he was done running, and was ready to give up right then.

No, Lily couldn't have that. She didn't know what she was going to do against a guild of assassins, but she wasn't going to let the Brotherhood win so easily.

The skeleton and rat had lost interest and wandered off. Antoinetta Marie was gone, probably for the contract Gogron had mentioned. Everyone else was watching the proceedings in interest.

But what could she do?

Lily pressed her back to the wall and inched towards the caved part that led to the well. That had to lead outside. There was a well behind the abandoned house of Cheydinhal—she had seen it before the vampire forced her in the front door. Nobody saw her creep along the perimeter.

Once she was near the well, she realized she was facing Lucien Lachance, and Jake's back was to her. That wasn't ideal, but she would have to count on the distraction she was concocting.

She had been to Oblivion. She had seen a vast amount of Mehrunes Dagon's Daedra. She had only ever summoned scamps and clannfear—but something bigger wouldn't be that much harder, would it?

Keeping it under control would be a challenge, but she didn't want to keep it tame. As long as she and Jake got out alive, she couldn't care less about the rest of them.

So, on that cheery note, Lily attempted her first summoning of a daedroth.

Should she have been horrified or delighted that it worked on her first try? As soon as the hulking creature materialized in front of her, Lachance stopped talking and everyone stared blankly at the _thing _that had appeared in their Sanctuary.

Then her weak leash on its soul snapped, and it let out a deafening roar. Telaendril shrieked and reacted in the most logical way—by turning and pummelling into the eerie door leading to the abandoned house. As soon as it was open, she burst through and was followed immediately by Teinaava and Ocheeva.

"Speaker, run!" Gogron shouted as he grunted and yanked a huge battle axe off his back. The daedroth snarled and swiped a scaled arm at the Orc. "Get out—we'll stop it!"

M'raaj-Dar abandoned his guarding of Jake and quickly conjured a lich to fight by his side. The daedroth turned its attention on its fellow summoned creature and its master. It roared again as Gogron's axe slammed into its side; blood spilled from the wound, drenching the blade of the axe and dripping to the flagstones.

The others hadn't fled, as Lily had assumed. She could see Telaendril standing a safe distance away, firing arrows through the open door, and Ocheeva and Teinaava were creeping back into the room with blades in hand. Dar'vaba had been knocked to the ground in the initial summoning, but was now back on his feet, swiping his claws at the beast. Vicente Valtieri was standing in the hallway that led to his chambers with a sword in his hand.

In the chaos, Lily couldn't see Jake or Lachance.

Gogron hit the daedroth again, and it smacked him hard enough to send him flying into the wall behind him in a spray of its own blood. It started to advance upon him, snapping its huge jaws, but M'raaj-Dar stopped it briefly with a huge blast of electricity. Bright jolts visibly zapped it, and it growled, spinning to turn on its newest attacker. Its thick, spiny tail slammed into Teinaava as he tried to sneak past it, and Ocheeva let out a strangled cry as one of the spikes speared her brother. Blood sprayed as he was thrown into the doors to the living area; they shuddered under the crash, and one swung violently open.

Ocheeva went to Teinaava's side and patted at the wound in his waist. It was bleeding some, but didn't seem to pain the Argonian overmuch.

The daedroth bellowed and the room rumbled as it ran up to Ocheeva and Teinaava. Gogron was back on his feet and stalking up to one side, while Dar'vaba slipped up behind it and M'raaj-Dar summoned a dremora.

Oh no. Whatever the Khajiit conjured would fight the daedroth _and _its master. The lich hadn't worried her. The horned figure in Daedric armour _did_.

The daedroth was surrounded. Gogron was enduring at its left, hacking at it as though it was a tree—a particularly bloody tree. The dremora had yanked out its sword and was jumping to dodge the beast's swaying tail, while M'raaj-Dar tossed more shock spells at it. Ocheeva and Teinaava were valiantly stabbing at its belly from the floor. Telaendril was skilfully firing one arrow after another. Vicente was near the Argonian twins, slashing with the speed of a vampire. Dar'vaba lurked up behind it, claws at the ready.

Something changed in the daedroth. It must have realized that it was outnumbered and had no chance, for it suddenly whipped into a frenzy. In a panic, it swiped huge claws at its attackers. The deadly natural weapons gouged huge rips in Vicente's chest, raked across Dar'vaba's head, and broke the dremora's neck with a loud, sickening crunch.

With Gogron, Vicente, Teinaava and Dar'vaba heaving and bleeding, the panic emanating from the healthy assassins was almost palpable. But soon the daedroth would be sent back to Oblivion—huge, gaping stabs and slashes oozed copious amounts of thick blood. Puddles of the stuff shone in the dim torchlight, looking like gargantuan spills of ink on the floor. Bits of flesh and scales floated aimlessly in the pools, and skin dangled from the glistening red blades of the attackers.

It was time to leave. She could get a guard and bring him here to stop the bloodbath, and get them to safety.

Provided Lucien Lachance hadn't already killed Jake.

Lily tore her gaze from the scene before her and grabbed a slippery rung on the well ladder. She heaved herself up with a grunt and lifted a foot to reach the next wet bar, but something clamped to her foot and dragged her back to the hard stone floor.

Lily groaned when she hit the floor, but the groan turned into a horrified screech when she saw what had pulled her back.

The daedroth had torn out one startlingly green eye and took a chunk out of Dar'vaba's ear in its panicked assault. Blood made his fur clumped and shiny, and she could see directly into the empty, bloody eye socket that still held a glob of gelatinous eye in the shredded hole.

"You will go nowhere, Breton bitch," he snarled, showing broken stumps of teeth in his maimed mouth. "You and Cub will not leave this Sanctuary alive. And when I am done picking the meat off your bones, I will kill the precious Septim heir."

Lily spat on him, but that only infuriated him further. He hissed and snatched at her hand as she again tried to escape.

She felt and _heard _the bones in her fingers and wrist snap when he twisted them sharply. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she groaned at the dizziness that pulsed in her head. In weightless agony, she fell to the floor in front of the Khajiit. Her vision was somewhat blurred, but she saw him loom over her with a grin on his mutilated face.

The grin was suddenly replaced with a grimace and a growl, and he fell back with a thud. In his place, Jake leaned over her, and he hurriedly helped her to her feet.

"They killed it," he said frantically. "Summon another one—summon _anything!_"

Lily grabbed his sleeve with her good hand and somehow managed to find the energy to summon _something_. The two climbed the wet ladder, leaving the dark family to fight off a tiny horde of purring scamps.

—

"You should be resting, dear. The spell will still be healing the breaks, and you shouldn't overwork yourself."

Lily remained on her knees before the cold stone altar of the Nine in Cheydinhal's Great Chapel of Arkay. She was staring at the thing because she couldn't think of anything else to do. "I'm praying," she murmured, and immediately felt bad for lying in a church.

"I knew I sensed goodness in you the moment you stepped in the chapel," the Altmer woman said as she smiled at Lily.

The Breton swallowed a rather painful lump in her throat. "I was a priestess in Kvatch."

The woman, whose name Lily had been told was Ohtesse, lightly touched Lily's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I heard about what happened."

Lily looked up from the altar to look at the tall golden woman. "Have you seen a tall Imperial man—dark brown hair, brown eyes, answers to the name Jake?"

Ohtesse shook her head almost grimly. "No, I'm afraid not. That could describe quite a few Imperials, unfortunately. Is he an acquaintance of yours?"

Lily bit her lip and returned her gaze to the altar. Jake hadn't even escorted her into the chapel. He had walked her to the door, opened it, and vanished into the storm without another word. She wasn't sure if he was afraid to enter a holy place, or if he had something to do, or if he was simply abandoning her there. "Yes, he is. I haven't seen him since I got here, and I just wondered where he was…"

"I'll keep an eye out for him. I'll leave you to your prayers."

Lily heard soft footsteps get quieter as the Altmer strode away from her. She continued to stare at the altar for some time, before bowing her head and clasping her hands in her lap. If she was said she was praying, she might as well do just that.

She shuddered and felt the sting of fresh tears when she began Oleta's favourite prayer. "To the Son, Arkay; to beautiful Dibella; to our keeper Julianos; and our heavenly Kynareth; to the Mother, Mara; to the compassionate Stendarr; to Talos the conqueror; to our peaceful Zenithar; and to our almighty Father, Akatosh: keep Baran and Marian and Jake safe in their travels, and guide and protect them to do the right thing. And protect Martin, Father, for even as ruler he loves and serves you faithfully. Amen."

Opening her eyes, she ran her tongue over her dry lips and stared at the stone block before her. There was a time, not long ago, when she relished kneeling before such a thing and simply enjoyed the presence of the gods around her. Now she was cold, and she ached all over, mentally and physically. And looking at this thing now only conjured images of those tortuous hours spent quarantined inside the Kvatch chapel, waiting and listening to the screams of the dying and the roars of the Daedric beasts.

Twenty-seventh of Last Seed. The day her life went to hell. Her life had been so mundane until the day Mehrunes Dagon decided to kick Uriel's ass.

Every single day for the past three years had been spent blissfully attending to matters inside the chapel. Now look. She had battle scars, she had been to Oblivion, she was tied up in the affairs of the _Dark Brotherhood_, for Akatosh's sake, and she knew the location of Dagon's worshippers. All somehow tied in with the fact that she was stuck in this 'illegitimate heir' mess just because she had been friends with Martin.

Aedra and Daedra really did have sick senses of humour.

Maybe it wasn't too late to end her adventuring life. She could gather up what money she had, go to a nice, remote city—Bruma, perhaps?—get a job, get a house, and maybe join the church. She wouldn't be worshipping Akatosh anymore, but at least she would have the comfort of her own home and the Nine Divine around her. Things could go back to some sense of normalcy. And in Bruma, she'd still be near to Martin.

Yes, that was genius. She didn't need to explore Cyrodiil with the Hero of Kvatch, or keep company with a Manic from the Madhouse of Sheogorath. And, she _didn't _need to continue relying on a twenty-nine year old Imperial Shadowfoot with a bad past with assassins.

Bruma was perfect. She could come to love the alcoholic Nords and the Akavir-obsessed countess.

"Thank you, Akatosh," she whispered, and climbed unsteadily to her feet. The Altmer was almost immediately at her side, keeping an eagle eye on Lily's injuries.

"That wrist won't be good for some time yet, miss," Ohtesse said, shaking her head. "And your face doesn't really look as though it was healed properly. Would you like me to fix it for you?"

Lily almost grinned. "Yes, thank you."

A moment later, she ran her fingertips over the marks and they actually _felt _smaller and thinner. Trust it to a priestess to fix the problem.

"Thank you," she said again.

The High Elf smiled warmly. "All is the work of Arkay. Oh, and a tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed Imperial man requested to see you. He's waiting in the back pews, if you'd like to speak with him."

Lily frowned and peered past the Elf. Sure enough, she spoke the truth, but Lily didn't think the simply-dressed figure was Jacob. With another word of thanks, she strode warily down the aisle and paused with a hand resting on the back of a pew.

"Who are you?" she asked curiously. A squirming in her gut told her she knew the man—and the same feeling said that she should _run_.

"And it has only been hours since we met," he murmured, and she instantly knew it was Lucien Lachance, sans black hood and robe. Those dark, evil eyes roved up and down her body. "You are looking… bloodstained."

"Thanks," she said dryly. "What do you want?"

"Ah, I appreciate a woman who can bear to get straight to the point," he chuckled softly. He was lounged in the pew, arms resting on the back as if he hadn't a care in the world. "So perhaps I shall do just that. Do you understand what that daedroth of yours has done to the Sanctuary and its dark family?"

Lily kept her mouth shut.

"You have invoked the wrath of more than one talented assassin. Dar'vaba in particular is very upset with your actions. While the Night Mother may not be summoned to rid the world of your presence, a brother or sister may feel inclined to do it on their own accord. Again, may I point out Dar'vaba?"

"You may."

The man chuckled again, and he got to his feet. Lily followed his gaze, albeit a little reluctantly. "Too bad you haven't the heart of a killer in you. You would make a lovely addition to the Sanctuary. I came to make a deal with you, Miss Laroque."

Lily tried to keep her cool while she looked up at Lachance. "Really? And what is this deal, Mr Lachance?"

"Your etiquette is refreshing. The deal is quite simple, really. I will keep Dar'vaba from exacting his revenge in exchange for the whereabouts of Jacob Bercarius. A life for a life, if you will."

Lily eyed the Speaker. So calm, so cool, so collected… and he was pretty much asking permission to kill Jake. "I don't know where he is," she admitted truthfully. "And I don't plan on knowing where he is anymore."

Lucien smirked a little. "After such a short companionship, you are severing connections with him?"

"With everyone. I'm joining a chapel again," she said firmly, hoping that part of her plan would work out soon enough.

"Becoming a hermit will not stop attempts on your life, madame. But if you aren't aware of his movements, you can hardly help that. However," he added, and the smile grew somewhat. It reminded her of Jake, and she cringed, though she hoped desperately that he didn't notice. "If you ever want to cement your safety within the dark family, I am never very far away."

Lily gave him a long, hard look before replying politely, "Thank you for the offer, Mr Lachance."

The Imperial took up her hand in his and kissed her lightly on the back, smiling all the while. "Until we meet again, Miss Laroque."

And in an instant, Lucien Lachance flickered and vanished.

Lily slowly lowered herself onto the pew he had vacated. Had she just agreed to send Jake to his death?

Fetching Imperials with their goddamn charm.

She glared up at the stained glass windows of the gods as if daring them to smite her for cursing. Of course, nothing happened.


	13. Moving on

Letters were sent, apologies were written, tears were shed—but Lily managed to pry herself from the Chapel of Arkay after staying there for a week. Jake didn't show up on any of the seven days, so it was time to move on.

Not that it didn't hurt. She was angry and upset that he had abandoned her at the chapel, but she knew she couldn't dwell on it, even though she was fuming as she saddled her uneasy horse. She hadn't actually _wanted _to stop travelling with Baran, Marian and Jake, but since she was left utterly alone in Cheydinhal to fend for herself, they had left her with no other choice.

Luckily for her, soon out of the city she met an Imperial Legionnaire whose patrol led up the Silver Road to Bruma. He offered for her to travel with him, so she wasn't alone when it came to bandits, highwaymen and angry animals that strayed onto the road. And they safely avoided caves, ruins and Oblivion Gates the entire time.

When she arrived in Bruma, Olav of Olav's Tap and Tack was more than happy to hire her and keep a roof over her head until she could afford a place of her own. Leave it to the hospitality of Nords, of course. And it was on her very first night back in the city, cleaning up after the rather rowdy regulars of the inn, when the door slammed open and a very agitated Hero of Kvatch blew in, clutching a crumpled letter in his hand.

"Hello, Baran," she greeted, grinning at the scowling, twitchy man. "It's been a while."

"Been a while. Been a while. You think this _letter _was enough to cover what's happened? '_I went into the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and ended up setting a daedroth loose on the inhabitants in an effort to save myself and Jake_,'" he quoted, holding the paper up in front of him. "By the gods, woman, you're absolutely insane."

"No, Marian is," she corrected, wiping up a little ale spill on one of the tables. "And I wouldn't have had to do that if you had only agreed to go into Cheydinhal with Jake."

"I know—you said that too. Martin's pissed."

"He would be," she said, thinking of his reaction to the dremora churl in Kvatch.

Baran's eyelid twitched, and she thought he was remembering the same. "You're alive, at least," he muttered, though she knew he was looking at the little scars on her cheek. "Thank the gods for the chapel. Where's Bercarius?"

Lily picked up a fallen tankard and gave him a long look. "I don't know," she admitted. "I haven't seen him since he dropped me off at the chapel in Cheydinhal. That's why I came here. I didn't know where he was, and I didn't know if or when you and Marian would be coming back. This is my way of trying to start over."

She felt his eyes on her as she strode across the room to hand the tankard to Olav, who was cleaning them swiftly and skilfully in the back of the tavern. "Are you all right?" he asked softly once she turned to face him again.

Lily dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm fine. He meant nothing to me." She pushed past him, hearing Skjorta angrily shout something to Bumph gra-Gash.

Baran followed her to the front, where the Nord and Orc were glaring each other down. "Don't lie to me, Sister."

"Keep it down. This isn't the Arena." she said to the two, before turning back to the knight. "I'm not," she replied, lowering her voice. "Well, maybe a little. He was a friend, and he made me laugh when times seemed to make that an inability."

"And that thing at the camp by Lake Arrius Caverns…"

Lily felt a flush grow high on her cheekbones. "That was nothing. He's a scoundrel. I'm a priestess. The two never get along. What have you been up to since you left?"

Baran glared somewhat, but didn't question her further. "I delivered the _Mysterium Xarxes _to Martin, stopped some spies that were trying to get information on Cloud Ruler Temple, and got in a little spat with a unicorn for a Daedric Prince. It's been a busy week."

"What is this about a unicorn?"

"Hircine wanted me to kill a unicorn and give its horn to him so I could get the Saviour's Hide to give it to Martin so he can open a portal to Paradise," he explained in one breath. "Now he wants Tiber Septim's blood. That'll be an adventure. And I've got to close Oblivion Gates all over the cities, so Bruma can have some help…"

Lily frowned and tucked the cleaning rag Olav had given her into her belt. "Why does Bruma need help?"

Baran quickly shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Marian's stayed with me the whole time I've done this. She tried to ride the unicorn when I had to kill it. It nearly gored her."

"What girl wouldn't want to ride a unicorn?" Lily remarked, smiling. "I would've tried had I been there. Of course, I was lying in a pew in the Chapel of Arkay at the time, wishing my broken wrist would mend faster."

"I'm sorry. I know I should've gone into Cheydinhal with the bastard, but… I don't know what I was thinking. Marian was making a commotion and I was afraid about the book and…"

"You had a lot on your mind, I understand. It doesn't matter. I survived, didn't I?"

Seeing that there were no more spills to clean or fights to break up, Lily sat down on one of the simple wooden chairs in the corner of the room. Baran sat across from her and stared into the little crowd congregated nearby.

"When Martin got your letter and learned that you planned on going to Bruma for a while, he argued a lot with Jauffre," he said quietly. "He wanted to come see you, but Jauffre said that was the stupidest thing he heard since Bercarius went free. But, you know Martin…"

Lily held back a smile, but her heart fluttered with delight. "The emperor always gets his way."

"Exactly. So, my job was to prepare you for the visiting committee. Are you prepared?"

"For what?"

"Several undercover Blades with numerous hidden weapons and an angry priest-turned-emperor," he said blandly. "I really should be telling you to prepare to have your ear chewed off. When I say Martin's pissed, I mean he's ready to rip Dagon's head off with his bare hands, he's so pissed. I think he might've thrown a book when he got your letter. Though, that might be because all he's been doing since he got to Cloud Ruler Temple is reading. Ah, and speak of the devil."

Lily looked toward the door and saw a familiar Redguard step nonchalantly into the inn. Baurus? He was followed leisurely by a woman she recognized as the Blade Caroline. Then, dusted with snow and looking quite furious indeed, was Martin, followed quickly by another Redguard by the name of Cyrus.

Baurus and Caroline sat at a table together nearby, talking about the latest Arena matches. Cyrus sat on his own opposite his fellow Blades, surveying the regulars with a wary eye.

Martin immediately marched over to Lily and Baran's table, and the knight wisely scuttled away to join Cyrus.

"This won't be a fairytale reunion again, will it?" Lily asked as Martin sat across from her and simply glared at her.

"Not in the least. Do you want me to lecture you?"

"No. I haven't been lectured in a while, and I've grown used to it."

"Too bad. You shouldn't have gotten involved with that thief. You shouldn't have gone into Cheydinhal without adequate protection—and I know you had Marian with you, but it was stormy out, or so I hear. You shouldn't have stood alone when Marian ran off. You shouldn't have gone with that vampire. You shouldn't have remained in the Sanctuary as long as you did. You shouldn't have trusted Bercarius with your life, and you _shouldn't _have gotten involved with him."

Lily couldn't help but smile a little, but that seemed to make him angrier. "Did I do anything right?"

Martin's eyes narrowed. "You conjured a daedroth. That was good. I'm glad you managed it without getting yourself killed in the process, but that doesn't excuse what you did."

Lily picked at a chip in the wooden table and remained silent for a few more moments. "I—Lucien Lachance spoke to me when I was at the chapel," she explained quietly. "He said he'd spare my life if I told him where Jake was."

"Is that why you're still alive?"

"No. That's by the grace of the gods. I don't know where Jake is. I haven't seen him since I went to the chapel. So don't worry about him. I'm done with him."

Martin exhaled heavily and crossed his arms on the table. It creaked as he leaned forward. "Baran and Marian explained your adventures to me when they got back from Cheydinhal. It wasn't easy for me to hear that you went into Oblivion. It was even harder to hear about Crantius Colto and _A Less Rude Song_."

Lily rested her head in her hands only to cover her burning cheeks. "Baran wasn't there for that."

"I said Marian explained things too."

"Right."

"You're growing up quickly, Lily," he murmured gently. "And I know you won't be the sweet little priestess forever. But if you're going to start a real life, please, for your own sake, stay away from criminals. They'll only get you into trouble."

She chuckled. "You sound like my father."

He reached across the table and cupped one of her hands in his. "Brother."

Lily's cheerful expression dropped and she stared at him for some time. "I don't know if I can do that, Martin."

"Move on, Lily. Start a real life, and move on. Please. You have to, and I know it isn't easy. It hurt me too."

One of the Blades behind them cleared his throat—it was time to leave. Martin stood, and Lily followed, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling. It was so pathetic that she wanted to cry over such a simple thing. He hugged her, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. A few tears leaked out and soaked the cloth.

And then, as if they had never even been there, Martin and his entourage was gone.

—

The next day she got another job at Nord Winds and Novaroma, and when Baran came to visit he didn't appreciate that she was living in the Tap and Tack. A few strings were pulled, a few favours asked, and soon he had her set up in the house of one of the dead Mythic Dawn spies, paying rent until she could buy it on her own.

When Sun's Dusk started, she was the most independent and most alone she had ever been.

Marian visited once as a guard to Martin when he showed up for a very brief visit after Baran got her the house. The Hero of Kvatch himself was her most common visitor, but he never stayed for long. He was too busy doing Martin's bidding—closing Oblivion Gates, finding the blood of mortal gods, and searching ancient Ayleid cities.

But she had been right in her thoughts back at the chapel in Cheydinhal. While she couldn't pass judgement on the Akavir-obsessed countess, as she hadn't even seen her yet, she _did _come to love the alcoholic Nords.

One Nord in particular, though he was quite a bit older than her—she seemed to have a weakness for older men anyways, so it didn't bother her.

Ongar the World-Weary was a regular at Olav's Tap and Tack and his house was right across from hers. After cleaning up after him at the tavern so many times, Lily couldn't help but like the man. And after Ongar left the inn one night, Olav slapped her heartily on the back and exclaimed in that cheerful Nord way that maybe Ongar wouldn't be so world-weary with a woman in his life.

And so that was how she was working on getting over Martin, as she had been asked.

After closing up countless Oblivion Gates in a row, Baran came back to Bruma for a visit before having to go back to Cloud Ruler Temple.

"You've been tamed," he remarked, watching Lily hurry around the little house to find bottles of mead Olav had given her free of charge. "Look at you. No spells, no conjured creatures, no camping on bedrolls… you're like a housewife, minus the husband part. Although," he chuckled, "I've heard about a little thing with Ongar. Isn't he a little old? And Nordic? And weary of the world?"

Lily grinned and sat down across from him, plunking two of the bottles on the table. "I liked Martin, didn't I? Granted, he's younger than Ongar, but he's nowhere near my age. And Nords were high up on my hierarchy, remember?"

"Liked," he repeated quietly. He leaned back in his chair, and the polished glass armour he sported ground against the wood. "So that phase of your life is done and over with?"

Lily rested her chin in her hand and shrugged. "Probably not, but I'm trying not to think about it. What happened to the mithril?"

"I was bored of it. I'm thinking of trying out heavy armour again, or going to the Shivering Isles to get some of that amber armour Marian told me about."

Lily rolled her eyes and poured the mead in two glasses. "That's probably not the smartest idea, Baran. You'll come back utterly mad."

He flashed her a wide smile and picked up one of the glasses. "Yeah, well, I heard the portal on that island in the Niben was yelling about wanting a champion. I might as well check it out once I'm done here. I could bring Marian home to New Sheoth. I don't think she likes Cyrodiil much."

"I suppose after living in Sheogorath's Asylum, Cyrodiil must seem pretty boring. She must miss her family though. I'm still in the same realm as mine and I miss them."

"Where do they live? I could probably get letters out to them or something."

Lily shook her head and pulled her long orange hair over her shoulder. "I already sent letters. I'm finally going to have a long-term visitor, unlike you and Martin," she announced happily. "My friend in the Legion has a month off and he's going to come up here for a few weeks."

"Let me guess: another old guy?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

Baran grinned and shook his head. "Your track record, for one. And Martin told me you had a friend in the Legion."

"Does Martin just tell you everything about me?" she joked, sipping at the mead.

"Some things, since you don't really talk about yourself. I know you lived on a farm with your dad and sister 'til you moved to Kvatch. You never told me that."

Lily arched her brows at him. "You don't tell me things either."

"Well, let's fix that then. I'm twenty-two, I was born in Mournhold in Morrowind, my mother's an Imperial with Nordic blood and my father's a Redguard, I have six brothers and three sisters, and I moved to the Imperial City was when I was sixteen," he explained without preamble. "I had some duties in the Fighters Guild, so that's why I left Morrowind. I went to prison when I was your age because I stole a horse when trying to flee from a few nasty ogres, and the owner of said horse was so upset by it that he got me a sentence for five years. I was in prison for two years, until the twenty-seventh of Last Seed, when I saw the Emperor die."

"Oh. I was wondering what the hell race you were," she remarked, frowning at him. "I couldn't decide between Imperial and Redguard."

"People generally call me a Redguard—paternal race inheritance, I guess. I think, other than Imperial and Nord, my mother has some Breton in her too. I'm kind of a mutt," he said, smirking. "So I told you about me, in a nutshell. What about you?"

Lily leaned her arms on the table. "I'm afraid it's far less exciting than your life. I was born on a farm here in Cyrodiil, and I've got one older sister, Marie. My mother died in childbirth when I was five, and so did my baby brother. I always wanted to be a mage, but we couldn't afford to send me anywhere, so I stuck around the farm until I was seventeen. That's when I met Marius Rotarius, my Legion friend, and he took me to Kvatch. The primate didn't want another priest, but the healer there, Oleta, convinced him to let me join; I had met her before, and she was friends with my mother before she died. So I joined. Not so exciting," she said again. "And then, of course, I met you, and your more than exciting life seeped into mine and now I'm trying to recover from that."

"I seem to have that effect on people," he agreed, grinning.

Lily took a sip of the mead. "So what was it like growing up with such a big family? Was it six brothers and—"

"Three sisters," he finished for her. "It was very crowded, but we had a pretty big house. My parents were part of the nobility of Mournhold, I think. That Great House nonsense… I never paid any attention to it. I don't think my mother remembered any of our names," he added, chuckling. "She called us all by nicknames except when she was angry, which was rare."

"What was your nickname?"

Baran cringed, and Lily grinned. "Honeybear, because I looked more like a Redguard when I was younger and because I was always fighting with my brothers."

"That's cute. Your mother sounds sweet."

"She definitely must've had some Breton in her," he muttered. "She had the charm of an Imperial and the sweetness of a Breton. But when she got angry, it was the Nord in her that showed up."

"That must've been terrifying."

"Part of the reason I left for Cyrodiil when I was sixteen," he joked, finishing off his drink. "I should warn you about Nords, if you're thinking of getting involved with them. They seem sweet and innocent, but they're warriors, and all a little taken with booze. Look out for angry Nords, drunken Nords, or angry drunken Nords."

"I've dealt with them all at the inn," Lily assured him, filling up his glass again. "And Ongar's sweet. Older men usually are. A whole life of experiences behind them, so they can tell right from wrong. Young men can't do that."

Baran gave her a long, curious look. A little smile played at his lips, and his eyes were narrowed somewhat. "Sister, what have you done with him?"

Lily tried on a sweet, innocent smile, but she knew she was blushing, at least a bit. "None of your business, Baran."

"You really are a terrible priestess."

"Hey, I don't belong to a church right now. I can do whatever I want."

Baran snickered. "Including shrivelled old Nords?"

Lily glowered at him and shook her head. "No. I haven't known him that long. Get over yourself, pervert."

"I'm just trying to look out for you. Oh, and look out for horny Nords," he added, grinning at her. "Ever wonder how they stay warm in Skyrim?"

"Baran!"

He snorted and picked up his glass. "This is really good. My thanks to whoever you got it from. And besides, Sister, it's Sun's Dusk. Winter comes early in the mountains. Fires might not be enough."

Lily reached across the table and took the glass from him. "You should stop drinking."

He smiled apologetically. "I'm not good at it. And if I show up at Cloud Ruler Temple drunk, Jauffre will demote me from Hero of Kvatch and probably put Marian in my place. Thanks for looking out for me."

"I'm only returning the favour. What time do you think it is?"

He squinted and shrugged. "Maybe two or three. Why? Prior engagement?"

Lily smiled and folded her hands on the table in a way she hoped looked demure. "Yes, actually. Ongar's going to show me the plants around Bruma."

Baran frowned comically. "I should probably go back to Jauffre and Martin, let them know the counties are safe. Look out for the world-weary, Sister," he said firmly.

Lily eyed him in confusion. What was that tone about? Did he know something about Ongar? "I will," she promised slowly. "Be careful in whatever they're going to make you do next."

He sighed heavily and pushed his hair away from his face. "Oh, I'm going to Paradise. Sounds fun, right? Time to get the Amulet back."

"By the gods, be careful, Baran." Lily hugged him, and reluctantly let him go a moment later. She couldn't wait until Marius showed up, so she'd have familiar people around again. She watched him leave; the afternoon sun glinted off his shiny glass armour. Looking into the sky, she noticed the sun was a little weaker than normal. Grey clouds were settling over the city, threatening a storm—which would probably be of the snowy variety.

Before going across the street to meet Ongar, Lily tied her hair back in a long plait and threw a thick cloak over her shoulders, just in case.

—

It did start snowing while she and Ongar were outside the city walls, wandering down the Silver Road and collecting plants along the way. They decided it was time to turn back when the wind began to pick up and whip their faces with tiny flecks of snow. By the time they made it back to Bruma, they were nearly being swept off their feet by the ferocious gale. After hiking through the angry storm, they finally made it back to Ongar's little house, coated with snow, red-faced, and breathless from laughter and the excursion.

After shaking out their wet cloaks, they sat on the floor before a little fire with more of Olav's best mead.

"Never in my life have I met someone who blushes as easily as you, Lily," Ongar exclaimed, seeing her cheeks after one glass. "Is it anything to do with your hair? A friend of mine said he knew a redhead who blushed brighter than anyone else in the world."

Lily smiled awkwardly and looked at the braid hanging over her shoulder. "It might be. My father and sister don't blush like me, but I think my mother did. It's a pain in the ass, if you must know."

"I can imagine. Maybe if it's not the hair, it's the skin. Fairer than Solstheim. You're sure you've no Nord in you?"

"Breton, through and through."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could hear Jake's voice cockily retort, "_Do you want some in you?_"

She rolled her eyes at the thought, and almost missed what Ongar said about Bretons. It was some bawdy Nord joke that only a bawdy Nord would appreciate, but she laughed along anyways.

"Are redheads known for their fiery tempers, too?" Ongar asked. The lines on his face deepened as he smiled.

Lily clucked her tongue and grinned. "Now, what makes you think that?"

"Same friend and his redhead. I want to know what I'm getting myself into."

"I wouldn't trust this friend of yours. Sounds fishy."

There was something strange in the old Nord's smile. "He's a slippery one, all right, but I'd trust him with my life. Whatever he says about redheads I'm going to assume is true until a redhead proves it wrong."

"Oh? What else has this friend said about redheads?" she inquired sweetly, smiling over the rim of her glass.

The man leaned back against the wall and crossed his legs—he looked like a Nord about to tell a story, which could be worrisome. Nordic stories had a tendency to last forever. "They're tempers are fiery like their hair, their fair skin makes 'em blush, but they're smart and sweet and don't have any other faults that he knows of."

Lily felt warmer than the fire could make her. "He sounds like a nice guy."

Ongar laughed and grinned. "I wouldn't call him _nice_, but he's one of the best."

"Well, his description of redheads sounds _perfect_," she teased, smirking at him. "I hope he and his redhead are happy together."

He nodded somewhat, but didn't reply. His gaze drifted to the door behind her. "Storm's picking up," he mentioned. "We'll be buried tomorrow."

Lily downed the rest of her mead and shook her head briskly. Setting the glass on the floor, she crawled to his side and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Well, what do you propose we do 'til then?"


	14. The world weary

"What's eating you?" the brown-haired Bosmer asked impatiently. The man pacing the room felt her eyes on him, and he scrubbed his hands through his hair.

"Some fucking plague, I bet," he muttered, scowling at the shortness of his hair. "From hiding in those goddamned sewers."

"You couldn't help that. You were _seen _taking food from that noble's house. But Armand got everything taken care of, even if the wait cost you your hair and a few days in the sewers." He didn't respond, and she sighed heavily. "Talk to me, Jake. What's bothering you?"

He stopped pacing and collapsed on a chair opposite her. Staring hopelessly at the rough wooden floor beneath him, he mumbled, "I had to steal _food_, Methredhel. I haven't done that in years. I'm just going to end up where I started."

The Wood Elf leaned forward, leaning her elbows on her knees. "I didn't know you then, but I know what happened. I'm not letting you get addicted to skooma again. I heard about what happened, and I won't be holding your hair back when you throw up everywhere."

Jake laughed dryly and gestured to his hair. Once shoulder-length, now it was only a few inches long, and scruffy. "Won't have to hold it back. It's too short. Ugh, skooma would really help."

"No, it wouldn't, Jake. Don't even say that. Life is always rough on the waterfront."

He gave her a long look. "Methredhel… I was homeless when the Fox found me. I was _stealing food_ to stay alive."

"Things got better, Jake."

He snorted and scowled at the little fire near them. "Yeah? Let's see, huh? I got a house on the waterfront, and I bought it with the money I got from raiding forts and Ayleid ruins. Then what? Oh, right, when I was twenty-four, the city took it back, because my money was gone and I couldn't afford it anymore. Is that better? No way in hell. I was homeless again. Penniless again. I'm just going to end up like I was when I was sixteen."

Methredhel frowned and shook her head. "No. You didn't have us then. You have us now. We look out for each other. The Fox will always look after you."

He groaned in exasperation and began pacing the room again. "Yeah? What are a bunch of thieves going to do when the Dark Brotherhood comes to finally kill me?"

The Elf was silent for a short while. "You never did say what happened in Cheydinhal. Everything else… but not Cheydinhal."

Jake whirled around to face her. "I fucked up, Methredhel! I told you about Lily—I told you everything about her, and I fucked it up, like I always do!"

"How? You never said why."

"Because…" He sighed heavily and slumped to the floor. Hot tears prickled his eyes, and he hated himself for it. "Because I'm _me_, Methredhel. I let her go into Cheydinhal, essentially alone. I knew the dangers of it, and I let her go anyways. And when the Brotherhood took me to the Sanctuary, I let them. I didn't put up a fight in the least. I was so afraid for what I'd see… I thought they'd hurt her, or killed her… I was so afraid. And when I got there, she was fine, except she had these… these scars…" Jake choked back a sob, and Methredhel rose from her seat to crouch beside him on the floor.

"Scars aren't a big deal, Jake."

"I know… but she's so beautiful, and then she had these scars on her face, and… and Dar'vaba was the one who did it to her—the bastard who acted like a friend to me for three years! I know he's an assassin!" he snapped, seeing the Bosmer open her mouth. "I know he's a lying bastard, but… it was such a betrayal. And I didn't know what to do. I didn't say anything that could comfort her. She probably thought I couldn't bear to look at her anymore. And even though I was being an ass, she saved both our skins, and nearly got herself killed in the process… I dumped her at the chapel and left, because I didn't know what to do…"

Methredhel lightly touched his hair. "So that's why you came back to the City. We'd all wondered."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and the Elf put her arms around him, sitting on the floor beside him. "I still don't know what to do," he murmured, trembling with the effort of holding back tears. "There's no way she's still in Cheydinhal. But I don't know where she went, and there's no way she'll forgive me for abandoning her…"

"You've told me a lot about her, Jake. I think she'd forgive you," Methredhel said soothingly. "She's a priestess."

He snorted and opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred with wetness. "Yeah, and I'm a thief. A homeless, penniless, foodless thief. See? I fucked it up."

The little waterfront shack was silent for a long time. Finally, after an aeon of silence, Methredhel murmured, "Do you love her?"

Jake glared at the fire and felt a tear of frustration slip down his cheek. "She's got her heart set on somebody else," he muttered. "And he could do a lot better for her than me."

Silence overtook them again. He simply sat there with Methredhel cradling him for some time, until the door to her shack creaked open and their doyen stepped in with a bundle of parchment in his hand.

"Hello, Armand," Methredhel greeted with false cheer. "What do you need?"

Jake could feel the Redguard eyeing him nervously, but he continued to stare into the fire, running through his mind the things he should have done differently.

"The regular reports from the fences came today," Armand Christophe said, handing the parchment over to the Bosmer. "I, uh, thought you two might want to read the one from Bruma."

Methredhel released Jake to take the letter from the doyen. She unfolded it and read, and when she was finished, she let out a little gasp. Jake ignored it and pulled his knees up to his chest, as if it would help. He should have comforted her in the Sanctuary. He should have fought them. He should have kicked Baran's sorry ass until he agreed to go into Cheydinhal to find her.

"Uh, Jake," the Wood Elf said carefully. He looked up at her with a frown, and she shifted uncomfortably, glancing between him and Armand. "I don't think the fellow she's got her heart set on could do a lot better than you."

Jake's frown deepened as he thought of Martin Septim. An emperor definitely outranked a thief. What the hell was she talking about?

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. He hadn't told them about the heir because he liked his head on his shoulders, so there was no way they could know about him.

Methredhel and Armand shared another look, and Jake looked up at the doyen, then back at the Wood Elf. "Um, she's with another thief," she admitted. "She's with Ongar."

Jake simply stared at her in numb disbelief. Lily and Ongar? The young, sweet little Breton and the old Nord fence? "Are you sure?" he choked out.

Her eyes returned to the letter. "He says her name's Lily Laroque, and he's sure it's the same Lily you told him about. He likes her, but he doesn't want to do anything in case it is… Jake…"

He didn't remember getting to his feet, but he was pacing and grabbing at his hair again. "Oh, gods, oh, gods," he mumbled, looking between Methredhel and Armand. Both were watching him worriedly. "Lily and Ongar. Lily and _Ongar_. _Lily and Ongar_. I need—he might—she'll—_Nords were higher than dead Sloads_," he gasped.

"Jake, you aren't making any sense," Christophe remarked. "What's all this about Sloads?"

Methredhel, on the other hand, had been told the story about the Sloads. "Oh, Jake. She won't do anything with him. He's ancient, and he'd probably die of a heart attack as soon as they were done."

"You aren't helping," he said, scowling at her. "I need to go to Bruma."

"Jake, you were there three times since you left Cheydinhal. Chances are she was there too, and you didn't freak out then," Armand pointed out.

"Yeah, but I didn't know she was there! I have to go."

"I thought you were too afraid. After all, you're foodless, penniless and homeless," Methredhel said, though he could tell from her tone that she wasn't saying he should stay. "What are you going to say?"

"I don't know… I don't think I'll know even when I get there. But I have to. I abandoned her, Methredhel."

"I'd advise against this," the doyen argued, watching Jake grab up his meagre belongings from the floor. "You don't know when that Khajiit is going to start following you again, or if he's bringing friends—"

Methredrel hopped to her feet. "I'll go with him," she said, cutting Armand off. "Two heads are better than one, and I've never seen Bruma in the wintertime. Helvius will tell us if anything's amiss while we're gone."

Jake waited impatiently for her to get her things together. When she was ready, Armand held the door for them and they stepped into the chilly autumn air. After bidding their doyen farewell, the two hurried toward the City, and Methredhel asked softly again, "Do you love her?"

Jake didn't answer, but the Bosmer nodded and looked back in front of her. "You'll win her back. Apparently she's got a weakness for thieves and old men."

He shot the woman a dark look. "I'm twenty-nine. That isn't old."

"And how old is she?"

"Twenty."

Methredhel laughed and led him in the direction of the stables, and he tried to swallow his fear. "You're old. And a thief. Lucky you."


	15. Sweet little slaughterfish

Lily hummed cheerfully to herself as she piled up the dishes from the lunchtime rush at Olav's Tap and Tack. As she carried the teetering tower to the back of the tavern, Olav gave her a little smile.

"You're awful happy," he remarked, taking the dishes from her. "Things are well, then?"

She grinned and helped stack clean dishes. "Is it that noticeable?"

"Sweet, I had guards asking if you were okay. Apparently you seemed like you had a bit of skooma before work." He arched his eyebrows at her and chuckled. "Had to convince 'em that you're clean before they were happy."

Lily giggled and glanced back at the door as it opened, but it was only someone from the Mages Guild coming in for a late lunch. "Thanks for that, Olav."

"Ongar seems a wee bit happier than normal, come to think of it," the Nord added, winking at her. "You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. He's got some shady friends."

She smirked and draped her cloth over her shoulder. "I'm glad I've had such a positive impact on this place. I'd really hate for it to all be in vain."

"Oh, I heard someone was looking for you," he said, setting a few plates in a bowlful of water. "They showed up at your house sometime last night, but you weren't there." His eyes narrowed as he smiled. "Why weren't you home, Lily?"

She grinned and felt her cheeks grow hot. "I was busy. I wonder who it was," she murmured, thinking of Baran. Surely he wouldn't be back from Paradise yet. She wasn't sure exactly what he had to do, what it was, or where he was going, but she _was _sure that it would take a while to finish up.

"I couldn't tell ya. They're no doubt staying at the Jerall View, though. Sure as hell not my customers. You working at Novaroma and Nord Winds today?"

"No, sir, I can stay here all day if you need me. I've got nowhere else to be."

Olav watched her thoughtfully. "You going to go up to the Jerall View to see who it is?"

Lily shook her head and leaned against the counter beside him. "No. If someone really wants to find me, they'll hear soon enough that I work here. Bruma isn't the biggest of cities, and everyone gossips here."

The door opened again, and a stranger stepped into the inn. She was a Bosmer with dark hair, and she seemed to be wearing leather armour. She was peering through the dark tavern as though she couldn't see that well in the shadows.

"Hello!" Olav greeted cheerfully. "Welcome to Olav's Tap and Tack! Can I help you?"

Her dark eyes shot up to the old Nord, and Lily frowned at her. She wasn't sure if she liked this stranger from first impressions alone. The Bosmer looked at Lily, and her eyes narrowed even more. "I'm looking for someone," she said softly. "I was told to come here."

Olav slapped a hand on Lily's back. "It's not Lily Laroque you're looking for, is it?"

The Bosmer's mouth twitched. "Yes, it is." She beckoned to the Breton, and Lily reluctantly parted from Olav's comforting presence to stand in the darkness with the Wood Elf. Olav returned to cleaning, and the mage was minding her own business at a table near the publican.

"Names don't matter right now," the stranger murmured, keeping her voice so quiet that Lily could barely hear her. "I need you to come with me."

"Why?" Lily blurted, rather loudly.

The Elf scowled at Olav and the mage. "I can't explain right here. All you need to know is that I'm a friend of a friend, and I need your help."

"Why me?" Lily asked, lowering her voice this time.

"I heard you're a priestess, and have some skill in healing."

"You could go to the chapel for healers," she mentioned. "I don't even belong to a church."

The Bosmer shook her head. "I don't need a chapel healer. I need you to come with me," she said again. "Everything will be explained later."

Lily nodded jerkily. "Uh, all right. Just let me get my cloak…" She retreated down a few steps to the publican's room and picked her cloak off the bed. After throwing it over her shoulders, she returned to the main tavern and nodded again at the stranger. "Let's go, then."

She followed the dark Bosmer out into the snowy streets, and noticed rather absently that the woman made no sound as she walked. They strode in silence toward the north end of the city, and they finally stopped near Hammer and Axe. The Elf made a motion for Lily to hold still, so she did just that, hugging her cloak tight around her as she watched the woman creep behind the building.

"Thanks for watching him, Jofnhild," the woman said softly. "Any better?"

"'Fraid not," came the rough voice of one who spent many years on the streets. "Still claimin' to see things in the clouds."

"Here." Lily heard the jingle of coins, and soon the beggar known as Fetid Jofnhild slunk out from behind the building and smiled awkwardly at Lily before hurrying off.

"Come along then," the Bosmer said, and Lily hiked through the knee-deep snow to wind around the wooden shop. When she saw the figure lying face-down in the snow, mumbling something, she froze in her tracks.

"Um… who are you again?" she asked breathlessly, glancing up at the Bosmer, who was frowning down at the man.

"Methredhel." She lightly toed the man and he giggled. "Can you fix him?"

Lily managed to crouch beside him. He was covered in snow and shivering, but was saying something about feeling the ground moving beneath him. Short-haired and dirty, she couldn't be sure, but if her hunch was correct…

Holding her breath, she lightly touched him and cast a simple healing spell. Nothing changed; he continued to talk nonsense—this time about how rocks are like candy to ogres.

Lily cleared her throat and glanced up at the Bosmer. "He's not sick," she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. "He's probably crazy, drunk or high, but I can't be sure…"

The woman's face suddenly contorted with rage, and she kicked the man in the side. Lily gasped, but he did little more than giggle again and roll onto his side to face her. "Ouchy, that hurt. I know how I could forgive you. Get me a unicorn. Got to be one somewhere. I'll bet they eat rocks, just like ogres. Probably got such bad teeth."

And her suspicions were immediately confirmed. "Oh, Akatosh," Lily whispered, clapping a hand to her mouth. "It's Jake."

The Bosmer didn't even seem to notice Lily was there anymore. "I _told _you not to do it, you ass!" she snarled, glowering down at him. "I didn't think I'd have to baby you while we were up here! How the hell did you find it, anyways?"

"Sammy," he mumbled, falling onto his back and staring up at the sky. His face was red from the cold, but there was a look of bliss on his face that excused the dirt, grime and stubble. "Mm, I love snow. It's like… so cold. Isn't it silly how people say it blankets things? It's got to be the coldest blanket in Tamriel. Defeats the purpose, really. Wouldn't you want a blanket to be warm?"

"_Sammy? _Shady Sam? You've had it since we left _the City?_" she demanded shrilly.

"I love that City. I mean, I hate the people. Can I visit Hieronymus? I miss him. I'll bet he'd like a snowy blanket, to keep his heart cold."

"_No_."

Lily licked her lips and looked up at the Bosmer. "Um… can I ask a few questions?"

Methredhel nodded stiffly. "I suppose it's your right, given the circumstances."

"Okay… first off, what's wrong with him?"

The Wood Elf scowled down at Jake, who looked undeniably happy. "Skooma. I _told _you, Jake."

Lily sighed heavily and climbed back to her feet. "Isn't that incredibly addicting?"

"Yes."

"So why'd he do it?"

"He'll have to be the one to tell us. And before you ask, we're here because he heard through a friend that you were here, and he wanted to come see you," she explained, giving Lily a sharp look. "He wanted to tell you his side of things. We need to get him somewhere."

Lily nodded and gestured behind them. "I've got a house on the other side of town, behind the chapel."

Methredhel cringed as if Lily had slapped her. "Behind the chapel? Oh… okay. That little shack?"

She grabbed Jake's ankles as the Bosmer grabbed his wrists. "No, that's Ongar the World-Weary's house. Holy, he's heavier than he looks," she grunted, trying to drag him through the snow.

"He's tall," the Bosmer said simply.

They managed to get him past Hammer and Axe, though it took a lot of effort. The snow was thick, and he was completely limp between them, giggling and making inane observations, like the sky was cloudy and the moons weren't visible. When they dropped him in the slightly-ploughed street for a little break, a Bruma city guard trotted up to them with a frown.

"Did you ladies need help with him?" he asked, glancing between Lily and Methredhel, then looking down at Jake, who was smiling blissfully and tracing outlines in the clouds with a finger.

Lily caught the Elf's eye and the leather-clad woman replied calmly, "No, thanks, we've got him."

The guard nodded. "Of course. If you need any help at all, I'll be more than happy to lend you a hand."

Methredhel gave him a long look as he walked away from them. "No guards would be nice, but we could use a hand."

"I'll get someone," Lily said, and turned away from them, leaping over snow drifts and almost losing her cloak in the process. She was panting softly and her fingers and nose were freezing by the time she reached her destination. Rapping her knuckles on the little wooden door, she rocked on the balls of her feet and waited impatiently for an answer.

The door eased open and Ongar blinked at her in confusion. "Hey. I thought you were working today."

Lily smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm supposed to be, but I've got a little problem to deal with first. Could you help out?"

"Of course. What's wrong?" he asked after grabbing a cloak and tossing it over his shoulders.

Lily huddled close to him for warmth, and he wrapped an arm around her. "A… friend of mine seems to have a little problem, and I need help getting him to my house."

"The Legionnaire? I didn't know he was here yet."

She shook her head. "No, he isn't. It's… someone else. Come on."

They hurried back toward Hammer and Axe, and found Methredhel crouching beside Jacob, who was now singing a song about a fish—and it sounded like he had made it up on the spot.

Ongar frowned as they approached. "What's all this?" he asked, looking at the Bosmer.

"Sweet little slaughterfish, crazy with the hist," Jake cooed when Lily and Ongar knelt beside him. "Swaying and swerving and gnawing and gnashing—and what sharp little teeth you enlist!"

"Skooma," Methredhel murmured, very softly. "She says she's got a house here."

"Across from mine. Come on." He hoisted Jake into his arms, and led the way back behind the chapel, with Lily and the Bosmer on his heels.

The Wood Elf hurried up beside Ongar, leaving Lily in the rear. A frown that she barely noticed anymore deepened when the woman leaned in close to Ongar, and the Nord whispered, "I thought this ended."

The Elf's dark eyes flicked toward Lily, and she made a sharp motion; their conversation immediately ceased. And that was more than suspicious. Lily's scowl darkened and she tried to match their long, silent strides.

"A bloody mess is the poor muddy mud crab," the song continued, to a different tune than the beginning. "Sweet little slaughterfish, eating whatever you grab. Bowmen, bandits, Bosmer, Bretons, begging for a chance, but sweet little slaughterfish hasn't a… glance…"

"That makes no sense," Methredhel mumbled.

Lily thought their mere presence here made no sense. She had no idea who Methredhel was, but she wanted to know why Jacob Bercarius was in Bruma and acting crazy from skooma, and why Ongar was behaving like he _knew _them. The insanity of it all made her head hurt.

They finally reached her house, and she held the door open as they all piled inside. Locking the door shut against the chill, she stoked the fire in the hearth and watched in silence as Ongar set Jake down on her tousled bed. Methredhel dragged a chair from the table to the bedside and simply sat there and watched.

"Sweet little slaughterfish, the Rumare is your home," Jake mumbled; his words were starting to slur a bit, and he was frowning a little, though he still looked innocently happy. "The rock is your bed and the beach is your loam… sweet little slaughterfish, my words do you hear? Sweet little slaughterfish, you've got a fin on your rear…"

"He's surprisingly lucid, considering his state," Ongar remarked, sounding impressed. He pulled up a chair beside the Elf and sighed heavily. "I'm amazed he can rhyme, and even remember that slaughterfish live in the Rumare."

"The… the scales you wear stink quite the… fume-ah…" Jake moaned a little, and he grimaced. "Sweet little slaughterfish… I really want some skooma…"

"How long has he been like this?" the Nord asked of the Elf.

"All day, I think. I woke up this morning to him prancing around the room in the inn. Must've used it in the night, when I was asleep. Oh." Methredhel turned to glare at Lily, who still hadn't budged from the hearth. "Why weren't you here last night?"

Lily returned the glare. "I was busy," she replied hotly.

"Doing what?"

"It doesn't matter," Ongar interrupted. "The point is that she wasn't here, but she's here now, and it doesn't matter where she was then."

Methredhel gave Ongar a look that should have had the Nord flopping on the floor in his last throes of life. "He's going to kill you," she murmured.

"He's too hyped up on skooma to succeed."

"He'll try. You didn't see him in the City. Has he ever cried on _your _shoulder?"

Ongar merely shifted in his seat.

The Elf snorted as though she had won a battle, which it rather seemed like she had. "Exactly. And you know I don't like crying men."

Lily gawked at the two of them. _They were so comfortable with each other_. How the hell were they previously acquainted?

"Does he have anymore?"

The Bosmer shrugged and gave Jake a contemplative look. "I don't know. I didn't check him after he started acting all crazy. He probably only scrounged up enough for one bottle from Sam. You heard about what happened."

"Aye," the Nord agreed softly. "Helvius heard and told me. Hieronymus was ready to put him away forever for that bread, wasn't he?"

"The fool thinks anyone who steals food is part of the guild. Crazy fetcher," she spat heatedly. "And getting back to our other conversation—in the letter to Armand, you said you wouldn't do anything, just in case. You lied."

"I…" Ongar seemed at a loss for words, but _why?_ "He has no claim. I couldn't even be sure if it was her."

Methredhel made a choked noise. "What other redheaded Breton priestess with the name Lily Laroque are you going to find in Cyrodiil, Ongar?"

"All right, somebody had better tell me what in Oblivion is going on, before I throw something!" Lily interrupted loudly, glaring at the two of them in utter confusion. "This _obviously _involves me, so one of you had better start talking—_now_."

Two pairs of eyes stared at her, quickly and successfully disconcerting her, but she continued to stand her ground and glare them down. On the bed behind them, Jake was groaning and rolling around as if trying to find a comfortable way to lie down.

Ongar finally sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't really tell you everything," he muttered wearily. "I'm a fence, Lily. I buy stolen goods for the Thieves Guild."

Well, that explained the secrecy. She tried not to let her disgust and surprise show on her face, but she knew she had to have failed. "Ah. And?"

"And… the friend I told you about was Jake. He's been here… three times since he left Cheydinhal," Ongar explained, rather reluctantly. "He told me all about you, but I wasn't sure if it was you when I met you. And I sent a letter to a fellow thief in the Imperial City saying that you were here, and promising that nothing would happen… but you know as well as I do that didn't work out."

Lily's eyelid twitched, but she ignored it. "Right," she said breathlessly. "Anything else?"

Ongar kept his mouth shut, and the Bosmer gave him a poisonous look. "I'm in the guild too," she admitted. "I was the one Jake came to when he left Cheydinhal. He told me everything that happened since he met you, _including _why he left you, but I'll let him tell you that. When we got Ongar's letter, he wanted to come here, so we did."

Lily nodded sharply. "All right. And what's this about Sam, scrounging up money and Hieronymus Lex?"

Methredhel looked at Jake, who had given up and was staring up at the ceiling with a pained expression. "He has no money. He finally ran dry. He couldn't afford food, so he stole from someone's house in the City, and was caught. Lex knows he's in the guild, but he couldn't prove it until then, even though that had nothing to do with us. We hid him in the sewers and cut off his hair until a friend could pay off the bounty and work things out. And Sam is a skooma dealer in the City. Jake told me before we left that he thought skooma would calm him down."

Lily was surprised to learn she was trembling. She pried her jaw open and said, "Fine. I'll let him tell me the rest. And since he's going to be _sick, I'll _take care of him, as _I'm _the healer. Both of you: get out of my house."

Methredhel looked more than happy to oblige. She got agilely to her feet and silently padded to the door, but glanced back when Ongar didn't follow. "Come on," she snapped at him.

Lily glared at him as he looked up at her with a confused expression. "Lily, I can help you."

"Yes, by telling Olav I won't be able to come back today. Now get out of my house."

The Nord sighed heavily and trudged out after the Bosmer, leaving Lily alone in a cramped hut with a skooma-filled man about to go into withdrawals.

This had quickly turned a delightful day into one straight from hell.

She dropped her cloak on the floor and reluctantly approached the bed. Hiking her skirts up, she sat down on the edge beside him, and very lightly touched his hand.

"Hello, Jake. I honestly have no clue if you can hear me, or if you can understand me, but…" Lily's words ran dry; she had no idea how to take care of someone on skooma. Deciding that she didn't care if he _could _understand her, she cleared her throat and said, "I hate you. I just want you to know that."

He whimpered and grimaced horribly, and a pang of guilt stabbed her. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, leaning down and brushing his hair from his face. "I didn't mean it. I don't hate you. I did, but I don't anymore. Or at least, I really wanted to. I don't think I ever could. I could never hate anyone who makes _The Lusty Argonian Maid _the funniest play ever, or who makes _A Less Rude Song _a more cute song."

"A more cute song…" he mumbled, and one bloodshot eye pried open. "Lil?"

Lily beamed despite herself. "Hi, Jake."

The eye closed and he groaned again. Lily picked up his chilly hand and held it in hers after making sure he was comfortable and covered in blankets.

"Is it going away?" she asked, though she was unsure if he could reply with any sense of sanity.

He merely nodded and uttered a little sob. What was it like? She wondered. Was the happiness and bliss from earlier just melting away into mental and physical torture, or was he just seeping back into reality, and the process of that was painful? Whatever it was, she was sure she understood how people got addicted to things after seeing him. Who would want to come back to the real world after jabbering about unicorns and ogres and sweet little slaughterfish?

She gently pushed the messy, scruffy hair away from his face again, and marvelled at the difference in length since she had seen him last. He looked rougher than she remembered; maybe he seemed healthier with her and Baran and Marian because they had a steady source of food, which didn't seem to be the case in the Imperial City.

"I'm cold," he whispered, and rolled over, curling up under the blankets. "Fuck, forgot…"

Lily blinked at his language, but didn't reprimand him for it. He had been through this before, but she had forgotten. He had been through the hell of withdrawals and ridding his body of the poison in his past. It was incredible how potent skooma was—though, Methredhel didn't know for _sure _if he only had one bottle.

"Were you alone before?" she inquired gently, squeezing his hand and settling more comfortably beside him.

Another nod.

Lily lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles, despite the dirt on them. "You won't be this time. I won't leave you for a second."

—

And so, to distract him from his pain and fear just as she had with the horses, she talked. Only this time, she didn't ask questions, and simply told him things. She carefully avoided the subjects of Cheydinhal, the Dark Brotherhood, Martin and Ongar, so she told him about the trip to Bruma and how easy it was to get a life started here with Baran's help. She talked about telling her father and sister about settling down in the north, and getting Baran tipsy by accident. When she couldn't think of anything else to say, she told him all about her conversation with Baran, and went into a detailed history of her own.

Her mother's name was Mallory, she said, and she was a redhead, just like Louis, Marie and Lily, only she was bright like Lily and not warm auburn like Louis and Marie. She had been born in High Rock, and was in the Mages Guild, but she gave up her life there to move to Cyrodiil with Louis and start a farm and a family. Everything had been perfectly idyllic until Lily turned five, and Mallory was going to give birth to a third child. Her mother didn't survive, and they were too far from any major cities to get a healer in time. The baby died too, but not before Louis could name him Clément. The two were buried behind the house at the farm, and Louis visited their graves every single day.

Lily ran out of things to say, and Jake seemed to be getting worse, so she turned to desperation. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she began to sing very tunelessly, "They say the Iliac Bay is the place to barrel around without a bit of apparel on, as advertised in that carol song, a tune that's sung as the west wind blows about it lovely not wearing any clothes."

She thought his next groan could've been a laugh, so she decided to continue, despite her horrible quality of singing.

"Ladies singing high notes, men singing lows, implying that the most luscious depravity and complete absence of serious gravity can only be found in the waterous cavity of Iliac Bay."

She paused and gave him more room on the bed when he fitfully rolled over. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked, even though she knew he had to be feeling like hell.

Jake winced and opened his eyes. "B-Bowl," he said.

"Bowl? Oh, bowl." She let go of his hand for just a second to grab a large bowl off her table. Almost as soon as she set it down beside him, he lurched over it and vomited copiously. He was trembling violently and whimpering like a kicked dog as he fell back, staring foggily up at the ceiling.

Lily grimaced and put the bowl on the floor before crossing her legs on the bed beside him. "Are you… um, are you done now? Like… you aren't high anymore?"

He shook his head and mumbled, "Th-This is the w-worst ever if I am."

She took his hand again and reached over to lightly wipe his hair from his forehead, noticing that there was a fine film of sweat on his face. "Are you too warm?"

"F-Freezing."

"How much did you have?" she wondered, stroking his hair in a way she hoped was soothing.

Jake cringed and moaned again. "Th-Three…"

"How? Did you steal money?"

There was another nod before he held her hand tighter and buried his face into the pillow with an agonized groan. Lily sighed and shut her eyes. This would be the longest day of her life.

It wasn't long before his shakes worsened and he was hunched over with his head in Lily's lap. She was frantically trying to comfort him in any way she could think of—wet cloths, singing, talking, and simply holding him—but nothing seemed to work. He retched three more times since the first one, and by the last he had an empty stomach and was dry heaving over the bowl. And when he was finally finished throwing up, he began to sob. Lily lay down on the bed next to him and he curled up beside her, weeping in frustration and desperation into her shoulder. Holding him close, Lily stopped trying to speak to help him, and simply let him cry.

It had to be sometime in the early morning by the time the shaking lessened and the sobs were reduced to sniffles. Jake nuzzled into her shoulder and Lily sighed heavily, glad that he was done—or at least _seemed _done. She could finally get some sleep; she was exhausted from the late hour and having to take care of him.

"I'm cold," Jake whispered tiredly.

He was huddled up against her, and she could feel that he wasn't boiling like before. It must have snowed during the night, and the fire had gone down considerably. She pulled the quilts up over them and gently ran her fingers through his hair. In the feeble light of the room, she could see him watching her; his eyes were bloodshot and dim, but seemed much clearer than before.

"Feeling better?" she asked quietly, still touching his hair. It was so soft, even though like the rest of him it was dusty and dirty.

He shook his head. "It feels like someone hollowed me out with something sharp and rusty, and left me to bleed to death, and the only way it'll get better is more skooma."

Lily smiled and pressed her forehead against his. "That was the longest sentence you've managed since I've seen you."

The corner of his mouth turned up the smallest bit. "How long have I been here?"

"Bruma? A day, at least. My house? About half that." Lily ran her finger along the little mark on his cheek from the shaving incident outside Cheydinhal. "I missed you."

"I'm sorry."

Lily sighed and shut her eyes, trying to find sleep. "Don't you ever leave me again, Jacob Bercarius."

He draped an arm around her under the blankets, and she noticed that he was still shivering somewhat, though this time it was from genuine cold. She shuffled closer to him, and was vaguely aware that they both reeked of sweat, vomit and skooma. "Only if you don't leave me," he murmured, sounding on the edge of sleep.

"Didn't I already tell you I won't leave you alone again?"

—

It sounded like somebody was trying to knock down her house with a battering ram, and it couldn't have been more than a few hours since she and Jake fell asleep, though it felt like seconds.

Lily reluctantly opened her eyes, and Jake groaned sickly beside her. "That is the worst way to wake a person up," she mumbled mutinously. "What?" she shouted, as the knock came again.

Her companion moaned again and glared at her. "Could you not be so loud?"

Lily patted his head. "Sorry. Are you feeling better?"

"Not much. No, don't leave," he whined, just as she was starting to climb over him to answer the door. "You're warm."

She made herself comfortable beside him again, and heard someone cracking the lock on her door. With a heavy sigh, she said, "It seems your friends are back."

Jake screwed up his face. "What?"

"Ongar and that Wood Elf."

"I don't remember seeing Ongar."

Lily frowned at him. "What _do _you remember?"

"Nothing in particular. Being really ridiculously happy for a while, then crashing and coming to in your arms." He smiled a little. "That was the best part."

"You're a flatterer," she muttered, and lifted herself onto her elbow when the lock was picked and the door creaked open. The leather-clad Bosmer strode nonchalantly into the house, followed by Ongar.

"How is he?" Methredhel asked, coming up to the chairs that were still beside the bed. Ongar remained by the door after shutting it.

Lily smiled at Jake, and he weakly returned the gesture. "Better. It was pretty bad for a while, but he's okay now."

"I still want skooma."

"Well, that's normal." Methredhel grimaced at the two of them. "Holy shit, you two _stink_."

"I wonder why," Lily said dryly. "What time is it? I think we got two hours of sleep at the most."

The Bosmer glanced back at Ongar, but he only shrugged. Looking back at the figures on the bed, she replied, "Maybe seven-thirty. Did you get anything out of him after all that?" she asked, looking at Lily.

"I asked how much he had. He said three, and that he stole money to afford it. That's all I got, though. Can we please get more sleep? It was a rather long night."

Methredhel nodded and smiled somewhat, and turned to leave. Jake stuck a hand out of the blankets and gestured to the floor beside them. "Dump that," he mumbled. "It's most of the smell."

The Elf reluctantly picked up the bowl of vomit and tossed it out the door before she and Ongar slipped out in silence.

Once they were gone, Lily yawned and curled up under the blankets beside him. Jake smiled tiredly and remarked, "We do stink."

"There's a barrel of water in the corner and a pot by the hearth—you're welcome to clean up," Lily informed. "I'm too tired to do anything but lie here though."

Jake remained where he was, and Lily curled an arm around him to hug him close. "Why did you come here?" she asked curiously after he held her in return.

"Um… I heard about you and Ongar," he explained slowly, as if he could barely remember why he ended up in Bruma. "I'll get mad later. Don't have the energy for it now."

"Oh. I'll finish my questioning later, then—but why did you use skooma?"

"I was afraid of seeing you after ditching you in that chapel, and thought it'd calm my nerves. I'll tell you everything later," he promised. "I just want to sleep right now."

Lily felt like her smile would never fade, especially after he lifted one hand to play with her hair in one of those adorable bouts of childish innocence. "All right. You deserve that, at least." Mustering up her courage, she kissed him quickly and settled down to sleep.


	16. Noble thief

It seemed like an age passed before they woke up again, but judging by the lack of light coming in through the window, it was only early evening. Lily's stomach grumbled loudly, and she reluctantly crawled out of bed to relight the fire and grab a few apples and loaves of bread before returning to Jake's side. He cringed at the sight of food, but she forced the bread into his hands.

"You threw up everything last night," she said, immediately chomping into the apple. "You should probably eat something."

He hesitated, then tore a small chunk off the loaf and stuffed it in his mouth. "Okay, you ready for this?" he asked through a mouthful.

"For what?"

"An explanation. Figure you deserve it."

She swallowed a rather large bite of apple. "Are you feeling up to that?"

"No, but again, you deserve it." He thought for a moment. "I don't know where to start."

"Wherever you think is best."

"Well…" He exhaled sharply and sat up next to her, tugging a blanket around his shoulders. "I reckon you guessed already, but I kind of fancy you a bit."

Lily grinned and accidentally squirted a bit of juice out of her mouth. "You make it rather obvious," she said, wiping off her chin as he laughed at her.

"Heh, yeah, well… whatever. So… I guess I'll start with Cheydinhal." He sighed again and absently fiddled with the bread in his hands. "I should've gone in with you. It was stormy out, and Baran said that Marian was afraid of rain and stuff… but I stayed back 'cause I was afraid of meeting the Dark Brotherhood in there."

"Well, that's logical. I don't blame you for that."

"I do. Anyways, a few hours after it started raining, Marian showed up and we managed to get her to talk, like I said in the Sanctuary. After failing to get Baran to come with me, I decided to go into Cheydinhal to get you. I was afraid of meeting the Brotherhood, but I was more afraid of finding you hurt. But I was so scared that they'd found you and hurt you or… killed you, that when the three of them showed up to take me to the Sanctuary, I didn't even put up a fight. They expected it, but I didn't do anything. I was too afraid. And when I saw you in the Sanctuary, unharmed, I didn't know what I was doing…"

Lily remained silent and let him have his time to think things through.

"Uh… oh, and I know I should've said something to comfort you when they let us talk, but… I was too betrayed. Dar'vaba hurt you, and other than the Thieves Guild, he's the only person I've had for the past three years. Even though he's an assassin, it made me so mad to see what he did to you."

Lily winced and looked away. "I'm sorry."

"What? Oh! No, the scars don't bother me at all," he assured her hastily, and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "Not one bit. It was all because of him that I was acting like that."

"Oh. I thought… I thought maybe you were—"

"Being a shallow ass? No. But then we went back to the rest of them, and I didn't know what to do. I kept thinking that I had to do something to help you, but I couldn't think of anything that would work. Then you went and saved our skins with that daedroth. Well, as soon as you summoned it, Lachance grabbed me and took me to one of the other rooms and was trying to kill me then and there. That's when I finally started fighting. We kind of…" He seemed at a loss for words, and settled with, "We kind of wrestled a bit, I guess, 'cause he had a dagger and was going to slit my throat, but I got it away from him and stabbed him in the leg. When I showed up in the main room, the daedroth was almost gone and Dar'vaba was standing over you. I kicked him to get him away.

"And then… I took you to the chapel, but I didn't know what to do still… I meant to drop you off and think for a bit before coming back, but next thing I knew I was in the Imperial City again, hating myself for leaving you there. Some shit happened, I stole some food and was caught, had to live in the sewers for a few days 'til everything was taken care of… but then I was on the waterfront again, and still hating myself for what I did. I was too much of a coward to go find you, and I was too busy wallowing in my self-pity to think of searching."

"Self-pity?" Lily repeated.

Jake frowned at the bread he was twirling in his hands. "I stole food," he said again. "I didn't have any money to buy any. I had a house once, you know, and a bit of money saved away, but it all ran out a long time ago. I'm pretty much as bad as the beggars, only I haven't gotten that desperate yet."

He cleared his throat before continuing the previous explanation. "I was complaining to Methredhel a lot. She was letting me stay in her house since I had nowhere else to be, and everything seemed so hopeless… all I could think about was you and skooma," he admitted, smiling humourlessly. "I thought it'd help, but everyone kept telling me no, and I had no money anyways. Then a friend of me and Methredhel's, he came in to her house and gave us this letter from Ongar… he's a fence for the guild."

"I know. He told me."

"Ah. Well, it said that Ongar was…" He grimaced, and Lily's stomach churned with guilt. "He was in this relationship with someone who sounded an awful lot like the Lily I told him about. I was so paranoid from everything that was happening, so I decided to come up here to find you, since I knew where you were. Methredhel offered to come with me. When she was getting her horse ready, I told her I forgot something in the waterfront, and I went to the Talos Plaza District, robbed a house, and found the skooma dealer outside the city. Got three bottles, just in case. We got here in record time and I waited in the inn while Methredhel went to find you, 'cause I was terrified of seeing you again… when she was gone, I had one of the bottles, and she was too tired to notice anything was up once she got back. When she was asleep, I started getting the lows again, used another, and then the last once that was all used up. That's when I can't really remember anything except for this morning.

"I have no idea if skooma's supposed to be that easy to get hooked on, but it was easy for me when I was a kid, and it's still easy for me. I think I'm finally learning my lesson though."

He exhaled heavily and put the bread down. "Anyways… point is, I'm sorry for what I did. I was a complete ass for it, and I know after what happened it's pretty much unforgiveable. And I'm sorry for barging up here to try and push you and Ongar apart."

"Jake… I don't love him. I don't even fancy him, really. I think he was my way of following orders—I was told to move on from my past, and that's how I did it. And besides, he's _too _old."

"Yeah? And what's a good age, do you think?"

Lily smirked and expertly tossed the apple core onto the table. "Oh, thirty, I think. But I could make an exception for someone who's twenty-nine. And homeless people have charisma."

He chuckled wryly. "Yeah, right."

"Right."

"All right, tell me something," he said, giving her a questioning look. "Did I imagine it, or did you kiss me this morning? I'm still having a hard time deciding what's real and what're skooma-induced hallucinations."

Lily smiled and ripped her own loaf of bread in half. "What do you think?"

Jake chuckled softly and nibbled on his food. "Well, you're blushing. You wouldn't be if you hadn't done it."

She rolled her eyes. "You know me so well."

"I'd call myself a good judge of character, but you're easier than an open book. So… I guess coming up here wasn't for nothing, huh?"

Lily laughed quietly and mentioned, "You should've known that after what happened at Lake Arrius Caverns."

"Oh, yeah." He frowned a little and scratched his chin. "I feel really gross."

"You look really gross," she admitted, eyeing the stains on the front of his shirt. "And the smell matches."

"You're too kind."

She quickly helped him heat up some water so he could clean himself off, then she bundled herself up in her cloak and boots and stepped out into the evening. The sky was a beautiful dark blue, and tiny white flakes drifted from the clouds, sparse and thin, and barely adding to the piles of snow covering the city. She sighed and sat outside the house, staring up at the sky and trying to pick out constellations in the myriad of pinprick silver dots.

Having been born in Rain's Hand, her guardian constellation was the Mage. One of the more complicated ones, she could never find it, though she had been successful in searching out the Lady and the Serpent.

When had Jake been born again? Oh, yes, Second Seed. That month's corresponding collection of stars was the Shadow.

How convenient that he was a thief, then.

It wasn't long before the door behind her opened, and the street was briefly flooded with warm, flickering firelight. It shut again, and Jake sat down beside her, shivering against the cold.

Lily turned and smiled at his appearance. His hair was sticking up in wet spikes and the stubble was gone, and he was wrapped up in one of her blankets.

She leaned against him and inhaled. "You smell better."

"Thank the gods for soap. Didn't realize I was still shaking 'til I tried to shave," he said, touching a little cut on his chin. "It was kind of scary."

"I can imagine. If you're ready, we could go find Ongar and Methredhel."

Jake chuckled rather awkwardly. "Did you see the state of my clothes? I don't have anything else, either." Lily automatically glanced down, and he laughed and nudged her away. "That's why I got the blanket, perv. If you find me something to wear, I'll go see Ongar and Methredhel."

"All right. It's probably not eight yet; Nord Winds is probably still open. Wait a bit; I'll be right back," she said, and ushered him back into the house. As quickly as she could in the huge snow drifts, she marched up to the clothier and found it still open. After getting a good deal on clothes from Skjorta, she floundered back through the snow to her house, where Jake was waiting patiently by the fire, still wrapped up.

She dropped the shirt and pants on the table and went to a little cupboard in the corner to find some of her own garments, as the ones she was wearing were wrinkled and reeked of vomit. She found a plain blue shirt and a pair of black pants, and set them atop the cupboard before waiting outside the house again for him to get dressed. Once they were both decent and she had brushed the tangles from her hair, she pulled on her cloak and opened the door, ready to go hunt down the two thieves.

Jake hesitated, giving her a pondering look. "So I guess I'm, uh…"

"Forgiven? Yes. You came back. That's what matters. And you apologized repeatedly. You probably don't remember, but you apologized last night."

"No, I don't remember. I must've said some ridiculous things."

"Oh, yes. Some things about ogres, and unicorns, and slaughterfish, and Hieronymus Lex… it would have been funny if it wasn't so serious. Come along." She gestured for him to leave the house, and he stooped through the doorway and waited for her to lock up. Once it was all set, they hurried down the street to the Tap and Tack, where they presumed the two thieves would be waiting.

The inn was unsurprisingly full when they stumbled through the door. All the regulars were piled together, as well as a few out-of-towners, and everyone seemed to be in wonderful spirits. Lily scanned the smoky room and spotted Ongar and Methredhel sitting together in a corner near the back, and Lily tugged on Jake's arm.

"I found them." She led the way past the bellowing Nords and much quieter other guests, and the two came to a stop beside the World-Weary and the Bosmer.

Methredhel smiled at Jacob when they approached, which surprised Lily; the Wood Elf seemed so austere. But then, they met under bizarre circumstances. "You're looking better, Jake," she remarked approvingly.

"I'm feeling better," he said with a sigh as he sat at the same table as them. "And I think I understand now that I can't just have skooma whenever I feel like it."

"What happened there?" his friend asked. "How'd you get all that without me knowing?"

So Jake quickly explained his trickery in getting the money to buy the stuff from Shady Sam, and how he used it while she was out and about in the town. Methredhel didn't look at all amused, but she accepted his explanation without question.

The Bosmer stood and gestured to Lily, and the two women left Jake and Ongar alone for a bit to talk. Lily followed Methredhel across the room, glancing back once at the Imperial and the Nord.

"Thanks," Methredhel said kindly. She even smiled a bit. "I don't think I would've had the patience to sit through a day of throwing up, crying and nonsense talk. You're a saint."

"It was… my pleasure," Lily returned a little awkwardly. "Uh, thanks for bringing him up here."

"I wouldn't have been able to stop him. Did he explain everything to you?"

"Yes, he did. Or he explained something to me. I have no way of telling if it's everything."

Methredhel almost grinned. "Charm the crap out of him and he'll tell you anything."

Lily giggled despite herself. "And do you know this from experience?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor guy never used to talk about himself, but I got him to tell me just about everything about his life by casting a few good quality charm spells. Of course, he found out what happened later and hated me for a while, but it was worth it. Ever seen that scar right about here?" she asked, gesturing just underneath the right side of her collarbone.

Lily shook her head.

"That's because he hides it. And I know why," she said smugly. "Like I said, charm him. I might as well help you out with him if you're going to spend any length of time with him. And it looks like you will be."

"What makes you say that?"

Methredhel pointed to Ongar and Jake, who looked as though they had come to an agreement about something. "I know he won't be leaving anytime soon. And Ongar likes you, but you're too demure for him. Bretons are way too delicate for Nords anyways. I think they're done." She started back toward the table, and Lily followed, smiling to herself.

Ongar stood as they approached, and he took Lily's hand in his. Bowing deeply, he said, "Thank you for a wonderful time, Lily. If you'll all excuse me, I have to go keep up with my job. Helvius has something for me." He turned and left the inn a moment later, leaving the three of them at the table.

"How long are you staying here?" Jake asked, looking up at Methredhel.

"Not much longer. I'll stick around tonight, but I'll probably be gone in the morning."

"You can stay at my house if you like," Lily offered.

The Bosmer shook her head. "No thanks. I've got a cozy room at the Jerall View. How good do you think Countess Carvain guards her castle?"

Lily shrugged. "I have no clue. I haven't been up there yet."

Methredhel smiled slyly. "I'm going to go find out. See you around." When Jake wasn't paying attention to them, she mouthed, "Charm him," before turning and leaving the inn.

"So where's Baran and Marian?" Jake asked after the Bosmer left.

"Marian's at Cloud Ruler Temple, guarding Martin. I don't know where Baran is, but I could place a guess. I need to go home," she decided. "I still smell."

"I'll wait here. I only ever come to Bruma to fence things, so I don't know it too well."

Lily nodded and wandered back into the darkening evening. The sky had lost its bluish tinge, and now it was nearly black as pitch, save for the wan moonlight and the tiny little stars. She hurried back to her house and quickly cleaned everything up, including herself, so it didn't smell like vomit and sweat anymore. When she was changing the sheets on the bed, she heard the door open behind her and she glanced back to see Jake wandering in.

"You've been busy," he remarked, shutting the door and looking around. "You're like a housewife."

"Baran said that too," she said, shaking her head and sitting on the edge of the bed to remove her damp hair from its long braid. As she was combing out the wavy locks with her fingers, she mentioned, "You know, I don't really know anything about you, except that you were born in Cheydinhal and lived in the Imperial City most of your life." Speaking with Methredhel had made her curious, though she didn't want to use a charm spell—yet.

"And that I became a thief when I was sixteen, killed a guy when I was nineteen, and have a rocky history with the Dark Brotherhood and skooma," he corrected, pulling up one of the chairs in front of her and sitting backwards on it.

"Well, yes, but I want to know more about you. You probably don't remember, but I told you all about my mother last night."

"Don't remember a word."

Lily reiterated what she had said before about Mallory and Clément, and when she was finished, she smiled a little triumphantly. "There. That's what I told you. Who did you grow up with?"

"My dad. Mum left when I was two."

That was a very unsatisfying, short answer.

"What were their names?"

"Ida and Jacob. I'm…" He grimaced a bit, and said, "I'm Jacob Reman Bercarius the Sixth. Disgusting, eh?"

Lily grinned and giggled, even though he looked in no way amused by his name. "I love that your middle name is the same as the Worldly God."

"Yeah, and I'm the first one in my family to go by Jake, to not act like a noble, to not have a forced arranged marriage, and to be arrested for something other than conspiracy," he grumbled. Lily had a feeling she had viciously poked a sore spot, and she was wary of asking more questions. "And I'm the first one to be disowned and treated by relatives as though I never existed. Oh, Ida and Jacob's son?" he spat heatedly in a pompous accent. "Oh, you mean Jack? Yes, he's doing _marvellous_. Jacob? No, you must be mistaken. The Jacobs end at the fifth."

Well, she learned very swiftly that he had a brother, and that he hated his family. That was easier—and a little more nerve-wracking—than she expected.

She couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she simply murmured, "Oh," very breathlessly.

Jake snorted heartily and crossed his arms on the backrest of the chair. "Sorry. I… don't get along with my family."

"I see."

His forehead screwed up into a frown, and he sighed heavily. "Hell… want to know?"

"Honestly? _So _badly."

"Figures. Well… I was born in Cheydinhal, like you already know, to Jacob Reman Bercarius the Fifth, and Ida Alessia Bercarius. Firstborn, so I got to carry on the family tradition of Jacobs. Parents were super nobles, or something, but they were always swindling money out of someone, and my mum hated it. My brother Jack was born a year after me, then three sisters, Alessia, Kintyra, and Potema, who were all from my dad's new wife. My family's got some weird obsession with old rulers," he muttered, and Lily smiled at all the regal names. "It's disgusting. When I was two, my mum up and left for some reason, leaving my dad with me and my brother. He was trying to make me and Jack little nobles, since he hadn't remarried yet. He took us to fancy parties even though we could barely walk and talk, and taught us how to ride horses."

He cringed here. Lily didn't laugh.

"When I was five, we moved from Cheydinhal to the Imperial City. That's where he met his new wife, Angelique. Breton. Alessia was born practically right after they got married. Actually," he said, distracted, "that might be why my mum left. Anyways, Jack and Alessia, and Kintyra and Potema when they were born, they all agreed to noble life with gusto, but I didn't like it so much. I rebelled a bit. You know, sneaking out, befriending commoners, getting drunk, all that fun stuff… I was kicked out of the house when I was fourteen, and they started calling Jack the oldest of the family, even though he was just an immature little prick. I lived on the streets for two years, when the Thieves Guild found me. Simple as that."

Lily was sure it wasn't simple as that, but she was afraid to ask. Why would he just suddenly hate nobility and start rebelling enough to get disowned from his family?

Gritting her teeth, she leaned forward and set her hand on his. Casting a nice little charm spell, she asked, "Why didn't you like being noble?"

A strange look crossed his face. He blinked a few times in confusion, then shook his head briskly. "Uh… my dad. And my mum. She hated how a lot of them treated her, since she gave food to the poor and stuff. And my dad… he… didn't like that," he finished stiffly.

And that had to be a lie.

She used the spell again, stronger this time. "Why?"

He looked confused for a second again. "He was as noble as you get without being the emperor," he admitted. "And when Jack and I would do something wrong, he'd beat the shit out of us." Lily gasped, and Jake cocked his head to the side, looking like a lost puppy. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. Jack got the picture after a few times, but I didn't. He made me mad enough to want to do _more _wrong. See this?" He pulled back the neck of his shirt, and she caught sight of a long line of scar tissue running over his left shoulder. "He hit me with a sword and _accidentally _cut me."

Lily had a hunch the scar Methredhel mentioned involved his father, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know yet. "Oh. I'm sorry." She kept her mouth shut for a few more seconds, praying silently he wouldn't say anything else until the spell wore off.

After half a minute, he rubbed his face and blinked at her, looking much more normal. "Um, did I just tell you about my dad?"

Lily nodded jerkily. "Yes."

"Weird. I've only ever told Methredhel about him, and she…" Jake's eyelid twitched and he stared at her. "Did she tell you to charm me?"

"No!" she squeaked.

"She doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut," he mumbled. "Charming people is a little rude, Lil."

"I… didn't charm you," she insisted, backing up on the bed and smiling as innocently as she could. "I'm not an Imperial."

He smirked and slid up beside her. "But you're a Breton. You know all types of magic. I only know one, myself."

"Do you really? And what would that be?"

Jake winked at her and suddenly turned invisible.

Lily smothered her initial surprise as she watched the dent in the bed where he had been sitting correct itself—he was standing, then. "Ah, yes. Second Seed. The Shadow. Turning invisible. Funny trick."

She peered around the room, trying to tell where he was. He made almost no sound as he shuffled across the room. "Jake? You can stop now. I could just cast a detect life spell and that little trick would be pointless, you know."

Her words were met with silence. But of course, he couldn't speak while invisible.

The table suddenly scraped across the floor, and Jake reappeared with a yelp. "Ah, stubbed my toe," he said, glaring at the table. "Ever been invisible? It's hard to tell where you are."

Lily laughed when he hobbled back to the bed and flopped back beside her. "Your hand is scraped too," she mentioned, picking up his left hand and looking at one of his knuckles.

He didn't bother to sit up, or move at all other than to arch an eyebrow and smirk. "Hm? Oh, must've bumped it when I ran into the table."

"Want me to kiss it better?" she cooed, beaming at him.

He merely smiled at her like he was dealing with somebody utterly insane.

Feeling rather ridiculous, Lily lightly kissed his knuckle, making him chuckle. "And look, another injury. You just can't stay safe, can you?" She leaned over him and kissed the cut on his chin.

"You're weird," he told her. "You never would've done this before I left you in Cheydinhal."

Still holding his hand and hovering over him, she felt almost exactly like she did outside Lake Arrius Caverns—like her heart had been turned into a butterfly. "Maybe I've changed. Maybe I'm braver now."

His little smile fell away in place of a frown. "Maybe. But this feels backwards."

"Yeah?" she said in the same tone he used for the word. "Would you do this if this was the right way around?" She leaned down to kiss him, but he released her hand, grabbed her and rolled over so she was on the bottom and he was above her all in one fluid movement.

"Well, yeah," he retorted as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Try not to look so surprised, Lil."

Lily gawked up at him, unresisting as he absently picked up her hands in his. "What just happened?"

"I told you it was backwards. I fixed it. This is better." And without anymore warning, he leaned down and caught her mouth in a kiss.

And as things escalated, somewhere in the back of her mind Lily knew she should be stopping him; when his shirt came off and she saw his collection of scars, she knew she should give him his clothes back and put him up in a nice room at the Jerall View Inn. But the little voice in the back of her mind went unheeded. After the loneliness of living in Bruma without long-term, familiar company, she would have welcomed Dar'vaba.

Well, maybe not.


	17. Soldiers

Lily twisted her hair into a long tail and draped it over her shoulder. Lightly running her fingernail along the long white line on his left shoulder, she said, "This is from your father."

She received a grunt in response.

Her gaze moved down from his shoulder to a little spatter of scar tissue near the middle of his back. "What's this from?" she asked, gently touching the dots.

"Jack pushed me down the stairs in the house in the Imperial City when I was seven, and he was six," Jake explained tiredly. "It wasn't a long fall, but there was a table with a glass vase at the bottom. I kicked it by accident, and it broke. There's probably some glass still in there somewhere."

Lily scowled and continued surveying his back. He was sprawled on his stomach beside her, and didn't seem to mind much that she was inspecting him, so she decided to use the time when she could.

In the small of his back were a few little scratch marks. "And these?"

"Kintyra. She was pissed off at me for some reason, and she scratched me. And here." He lifted up his right arm and held it so she could see his forearm. "Potema bit me."

Lily smiled as he put his arm back under his cheek. "Your siblings must have hated you. Or at least been extreme sadists."

"Maybe both. They're related to my dad, so…"

"Was Alessia the only one who didn't try to maim you?"

His back shook as he laughed. "No. She was the worst. She thought she was hot stuff just because she was the oldest of the new marriage. Everyone else gave me scars—she broke my finger." He waggled his pinkie finger, and Lily giggled.

She continued to scan his back for more scars, but couldn't see anything of interest. "All right, you, roll over," she ordered cheerfully.

He moved his head so he could see her. "Why?"

"I want to look at your other scars."

"Couldn't you do that some other time? I'm finally not feeling sick from skooma, and I'd like to treasure some time in a real bed."

Lily gave him a sugary smile. "I would've done it last night, but you were otherwise occupied. Roll over."

Jake sighed in resignation and flipped onto his back with his arms behind his head. He watched her with a tiny smile playing at his lips as she inspected his torso. "I don't get why you think this is so interesting."

"I don't have many scars, and none are from Marie. And it gives a little insight on who you were before I met you," she explained, staring at the scar Methredhel had mentioned. It was just beneath the right side of his collarbone, pink and puckered and almost completely circular, quite unlike the rest of his marks.

"Ah, yes, the earlier me. Should've thought the wise priestess would be judging me by my scars," he drawled sarcastically.

"You're welcome to judge me by mine, but I'll just get it over with now: mine say that I pick fights with dangerous people." She lightly pressed her finger to the scar beneath his collarbone. "What's this one?"

"Hot poker." His reply was quick and curt. "Impromptu fighting lesson with my father gone bad."

Lily didn't believe him for one second, but she didn't press the matter further. Instead, she looked at a long, thin slash across his ribs. "And this?"

"Um… oh, that was from a trap in a fort that I accidentally sprung. Surprised the shit out of me, I'll tell you that."

Lily's eyes roved lower, and she froze when she saw a huge, mottled bruise on his hip that _somehow _she hadn't noticed before. "Uh… Jake, what is _this?_"

"What?" He glanced down to see what she was looking at. "Oh, that." Falling back on the pillow, he said, "When I stole the food in the Imperial City, the guard who caught me thought it would be funny to beat the crap out of me before taking me to prison. Guards abuse their power a lot. I'm used to it. Got some scars on my back you didn't point out that I got from them."

Lily cringed. She had heard about the brutality of guards, but she never thought it was entirely _true_. Deciding to end her search there, she poked his ribs and remarked, "You're skinny."

"I'm poor."

"I'll make sure you've got enough to eat from now on," she promised, grinning at him. "The folks at Novaroma pay me very generously considering I'm almost never there. Oh, speaking of, I'm starving," she exclaimed, and went to crawl over him, but he stopped her by sitting up and kissing her thoroughly.

Lily pulled away a moment later. She knew she was smiling like an idiot, but she really didn't care. "Thank you," she said lightly. Jake grinned. "But you aren't food. And you have bad breath."

"Way to kick me while I'm down. Get me something," he said as she hopped off the bed and went to hunt for something to eat.

Lily returned shortly with an armload of fruit, bread and cheese. She dumped the things on the bed in front of him, and was about to gorge herself silly, but a knock at the door stopped her.

Jake ignored it and ate half a pear in one bite. Lily frowned at the door as if she couldn't believe somebody was actually visiting her. When whoever was out there knocked again, Jake nudged her arm and said through a mouthful of food, "Maybe you should answer it."

Lily nodded distractedly and stood up. "Cover up, would you?" she requested, grabbing the first dress she saw from the cupboard and pulling it on. She glanced back at Jake and saw that he was stuffing his face with bread now.

"I am," he said, gesturing to his lower half, which was barely covered by the blankets. "Just answer the door."

She frowned and padded across the little room to get to the door. When she opened it, her confusion was immediately replaced by incredible joy—so much joy, that she actually screamed. "Marius!"

"Lily!" He immediately hugged her, and Lily was grateful that he wasn't locked inside his uniform this time. "I came earlier than I expected. I hope it's all right."

"Of course! Come on in!" She ushered him into the house and shut the door, but the cheer of the reunion was immediately dampened when Marius took a few steps into the room. Lily couldn't explain it, but the house seemed suddenly cloaked in icy hatred.

"Who is this?" Marius asked, jerking his chin at Jake, who was staring at the soldier like a deer in the path of a carriage—though he looked remarkably more ridiculous, as he had a bit of bread stuck to his lip.

Lily frowned between them. "Uh… a friend of mine. You've met him," she remembered. "He was at the farm when I met _you_."

"Jacob Bercarius," the soldier hissed. The mere tone to his voice made the hair on the back of Lily's neck stand on end. "So you fled to Bruma."

"So did you, apparently," Jake replied stiffly. Without taking his eyes from Marius, he said, "Hey, Lil, want to know something about that bruise? One Marius Rotarius did it to me."

Lily felt her jaw drop and she gawked at Marius. "But… what? I thought… I thought you were stationed in Bravil, or something…"

"I was relocated—_again_—to the Imperial City last month. Didn't you get my letter?"

She could only shake her head mutely.

"This fetcher tried to flee when the guard was arresting him for theft," Marius snarled. "We had to use force."

"Oh," she murmured weakly. Jake still hadn't moved except to speak, and Marius' fists were clenched tightly at his sides. The tension was so thick in the room that she thought she could cut it with a dull blade.

"What are you doing with this _filth?_" the soldier asked sharply, turning his gaze to her now.

Lily thought that should've been painfully obvious, given her dishevelled appearance and the fact that Jake was naked, but she didn't say anything to implicate herself. "I, uh… he's my friend…"

"Clearly. Does your father know about this?"

It felt as though somebody had shoved a jagged rock down her throat. She couldn't breathe, and words were choked. "He, uh, thinks I'm in a relationship with a local Nord… because I was… previously…"

Marius' lip curled in a sneer. "So you're a whore now."

He might as well have slapped her across the face. Lily gawked at him in sheer bewilderment and hurt at his words, and she was so stunned that she almost missed it when Jake snarled, "If I wasn't fucking _naked_, I'd kill you _right now_."

"You could try, definitely. I can't imagine you'd get very far, weak from skooma withdrawals as you are."

Jake scowled darkly. "How did—"

"Captain Lex arrested the skooma dealer known as 'Shady Sam' after you left the City," Marius snapped. "Even if your precious Armand Christophe cleared your name for the theft, you're still wanted for numerous other crimes. Captain Lex convinced the dealer to say if he had seen you recently. It must be my lucky day if I've found you here."

"Leave him alone, Marius," Lily whispered. She managed to move her stiff limbs, and she strode up between the soldier and the thief. "You aren't on duty. You can't do anything, even if Lex—"

"A guard is always on duty. Get out of my way."

Lily gritted her teeth and glared at him. "No."

"That's an order, Lily."

"No. I'm not moving."

Marius growled under his breath and pushed past her. Lily stumbled over her own feet and collided with the wall. Whirling around, she called, "Jake!" but when she turned around, she and Marius were both staring at nothing.

"Oh, thank Akatosh," she breathed, holding onto the wall to keep her on her feet. While Marius was cursing about thieves and mages, she cast a weak detect life spell and spotted a purple figure crouched in the far corner of the room. The spell flickered and faded away almost immediately, but a wave of relief passed over her knowing that he was safe—for now.

Marius turned on her, seething. "Where is he?"

Lily swallowed the spiky rock in her throat and it cut her on the way down. "That is none of your business, Marius. Get out of my house." It was like déjà vu—hadn't she said nearly the same thing to Ongar and Methredhel?

The soldier gave her a hard look that made her want to curl up and die. No doubt it was a look he normally reserved for felons. "Your father will hear about this, Lily," he murmured, and stormed from the hut.

He slammed the door behind him with more force than probably necessary, but Lily didn't notice. She was too busy staring up at the ceiling and mumbling prayers to Akatosh and the other Eight. Her knees were trembling violently and she felt like she was going to throw up, but she managed to stay calm enough.

"Well, that was fun," Jake's voice remarked cheerfully from the direction of the bed.

Lily looked over and saw him huddled on the bed again with a blanket around him as he grabbed a chunk of cheese. "I just stood down a soldier and a friend," she said breathlessly. "How could you possibly be thinking of eating?"

He shrugged. "I've done worse to soldiers and friends."

Well, that was true enough, she realized. Exhaling shakily, she lowered herself onto the bed beside him. He held out bread to her, but she shook her head, too busy thinking about what had just transpired to eat.

What hurt the most was that he had called her a whore. She would have trusted Marius with her life, but he jumped into said life and drawn conclusions without knowing all the facts. She wasn't a whore. She was just about the farthest thing from, and yet he had behaved as though she jumped the bones of any man, mer, felon or noble she saw. Or felon _and _noble, she amended, giving Jake a sidelong glance.

"Think he left the city?" he asked.

Lily shook her head. "No. I think he mentioned once that he knows Burd. He won't leave right away."

"Well, shit then. I won't be able to leave with him hanging around."

"So stay here all day. I don't mind."

Jake smiled sweetly and leaned his head on her shoulder. "Stay here with me?"

Lily frowned at the thought of sitting around all day with nothing to do. "And do what?"

"I can think of something."

"Jacob, you act as though you haven't done anything sexual in years."

"Still youngish, remember? And now that I've got someone _way _younger than me, and a _Breton_, to boot… what the hell else am I supposed to be thinking of?"

It was impossible to continue pouting with his perpetual happiness. "Hm. I forgot about the race factor. What do you think about that silly song now?"

He smirked knowingly and an arm snaked out from beneath the blanket to wrap around her waist and pull her close to him. "I think Bretons are number one on _my _list."

Lily grinned and leaned into him. To hell with Novaroma and Nord Winds and the Tap and Tack—she _did _want to stay inside all day. "Maybe I'll move Imperials up a bit," she decided teasingly. "They can be above Bretons."

Jake frowned comically. "That isn't number one, is it?"

"Nope. The Redguard is still beating you."

"All right, who _is _this bastard?"

She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Oh, some fellow that stopped by the farm for a few days when I was sixteen. Snuck into each other's rooms the whole time he was there. I think he was nineteen."

"You think."

"Yes. I don't even remember his name."

His voice was hilariously flat as he said, "But you remember he was good in the sack."

Lily laughed and ruffled his hair. "Well, one does remember the memorable parts," she teased, and realized that their moods had abruptly switched. "Oh, relax," she clucked, turning to face him as he scowled at her. "I'm not sitting in a tiny hovel in Bruma with a naked Redguard right now, am I? Although, I would be, if Baran was here instead of you," she mused, smirking a little.

"He's a Redguard? Hell, I thought he was an Imperial."

"He is. Partly. And he's part Breton and part Nord."

"Holy."

"Exactly. But you're full Imperial?"

"Yep."

Lily grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh, good. I wouldn't want to have to change my list around just because you're a mutt."

The corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled her close. "No, I'm a _noble_."

She rolled her eyes. "How wonderful," she said sarcastically. "Because nobles and priestesses get along so much better than thieves and priestesses."

Jake gave her a lengthy kiss before replying, "You're the worst priestess ever."

"You fit your role pretty well, scoundrel."

Of course, as luck would have it, the door happened to burst open just as they were settling down to business.

Lily squeaked in surprise and accidentally grabbed Jake's hair in response to the sudden entrance, and he yelped and cringed horribly.

"I _knew_ it!" an absurdly cheerful voice exclaimed from the door. "I _knew _you two liked each other!"

Lily turned and gawped at the door to see a very familiar man in some eerily familiar red and black armour. "_Baran?_" she gasped. "What are _you _doing here?"

The Hero of Kvatch had an impossibly wide grin on his face, and his skin was a little browner than she remembered, and he was definitely no longer wearing glass armour. "I'm back! I didn't even have to go to Paradise yet!"

"Where _were _you?" she demanded, letting go of Jake and fixing her dress.

"The Shivering Isles! Sheogorath let me in! I met him! He's _wild!_"

Lily glanced at Jake, who was modesty covered with the blanket and staring at Baran in utter shock. "Why is he yelling?" he whispered nervously.

"I'm just really excited, because I _knew _you two liked each other, and she just kept denying it!" Baran grinned at the two of them. "Should I come back later?"

She gave Jake another look and he shook his head. "I'm not doing anything after that."

Lily cleared her throat awkwardly. "You can, uh, stay…"

She could have sworn that Baran _squealed_ before hopping across the room and making himself at home on one of the chairs beside the bed. "This is fabulous. I can't even tell you how happy I am for you."

Lily backed up a bit—why was he leaning _so _close?—and clamped her arms around her knees. "Uh, thanks. What's, um, what's the Shivering Isles like?"

"_So _beautiful. And actually, Mania, the part I went to, looks a lot like Morrowind, with giant mushrooms and stuff. It's like being back home. But Dementia looks like Cyrodiil in the wintertime. But _bad _winter, where _everything _dies. I met Marian's cousin, Hirrus, and her boy toy, Orinthal. They seem nice. Sheogorath's attendant, Haskill, is probably the only sane on in the Madhouse. It's so bizarre. And I think I might've gone a little loopy when I was there," he admitted, grinning at them. "I don't feel weird anymore though."

"You're _acting _weird," Jake stated bluntly. He was watching the knight with a look of utter horror.

"Am I? Sorry. What have you two been up to since I've been gone?"

"Life."

"Good answer, Sister. Oh, hey, when I was coming to your house, there was this really angry Imperial guy nearby, glaring at me the whole time. Do you know what that was all about? He looked ready to beat me up."

Lily smiled humourlessly. "That's Marius Rotarius, someone I know in the Legion. He wasn't all too happy to see Jake."

"_That _was your Legionnaire? By the gods, he looked ready to kill someone. Oh, speaking of kill, Martin told me to tell you something before I came here."

A pang of worry shot through her. She hadn't heard from Martin since she first got the house; he was probably too busy to stop working for a few hours, and coming to Bruma was dangerous anyways. "Why?" she asked weakly. "What is it?"

"I didn't go to Paradise because I _couldn't_. Not yet, anyways. We need a super sigil stone before we can open the portal."

"Don't you have tonnes of them?"

"No. We need one from a Great Gate." His voice was calm and grim now; he had quickly sobered up from the earlier excitement. "The Mythic Dawn is going to open one up outside Bruma. Martin wants you to go to Cloud Ruler Temple 'til it's over. Some Blades will be there to protect you."

Lily nodded dazedly. Cloud Ruler Temple wouldn't be far away from a Great Gate, but at least it was a super-fortified fortress. "I'll wait it out with Martin?"

Baran frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Um, not exactly… you'll wait it out, yes, but Martin won't be there."

"Why not?"

"He'll be with me… and Jauffre… and Baurus… here… to fight off the Daedra that come through the Gate."

Lily shuddered and said, "So the last heir to the throne of the _Empire _is going to risk his neck by fighting Daedra. Oh, how typical of him. He's always got to be the leader."

"He's a Septim. Isn't that a _good _quality in them?" Jake wondered. At the poisonous look she shot him, he hastily added, "Of course, I'm not helping."

"Is Marian going to be at the Temple at least?"

"Ah, I knew I forgot someone. Marian's going to be here to help fight the Daedra and protect Martin, then she's going to come with me into the Great Gate. You, Sister, are to stay in Cloud Ruler Temple until we get back. With us as the messengers, the Gate will definitely be closed and it'll be safe to go back to Bruma."

Lily observed him for quite some time. He seemed serious enough, but there was an excited twinkle in his eyes that was impossible to miss. The fool was _excited _to go into a Great Gate. Finally, she managed to say, "And what about Jake?"

"I'm sure Martin won't mind bringing him to the Temple with you. Jauffre might oppose it, but his word isn't the one that's law. Martin's, however, is, and I'm sure he's got no problem with you moving on. Though he's got a problem with thieves, doesn't he?"

"I don't care. I'm moving on. Those _were _my orders, after all," she agreed dryly. "Straight from the Emperor's mouth. When do you think the Gate will open?"

"I don't know. But as soon as it does, grab whatever you might need, grab him, grab your horse, and get up to Cloud Ruler Temple. They'll let you in. So I gather things didn't go well with Ongar?" he asked, and a smile returned to his face.

Lily scrubbed her hands over her face. How could he possibly change the subject so easily? "It was the easiest breakup in history," she mumbled, but she wasn't concentrating on anything but somehow trying to convince Baran to keep Martin at Cloud Ruler Temple when the Great Gate opened.

"Well, that's good. And when did you get back?" She had a feeling this question was directed at Jake, so she stayed quiet and let herself brood.

"A few days ago. Everything's been cleared up."

"I can _see _that. How fabulous."

"Of course," Jake continued darkly, "I wouldn't have had to leave and beg for forgiveness if you'd just gone into Cheydinhal with me."

"Get over it, Bercarius. Everything worked out in the end, didn't it? I mean, you're in bed with a priestess of Akatosh. Let the past be past. Anyways, I can't stay for too long. I've got to get some friends together to help out when the Gate opens. I just thought I'd pop in and let you know what's going on."

"All right. Thanks, Baran." She leaned over to quickly embrace him.

"Be careful, Sister. You too, Bercarius," he added, smirking at Jake.

"Yes, sir," the thief replied blandly.

Lily watched Baran leave the house with much more dignity than he had upon entering. Once the door was shut, she remarked, "I'm getting rather tired of having people barge into my house unannounced. The next person who does is going to get a swift kick to the skull."

"I don't think you could kick that high," he mused, exhibiting his teeth in a wide grin. Lily rolled her eyes at him, and he laughed. "How about the next person who does gets a daedroth stuck on them? Now that we know you can do that."

"You're brilliant. I should probably go work before I get fired," she sighed, standing and picking up her brush from the floor. It somehow had been knocked off the bedside table during the night. As she ran the bristles through her hair, she said to him, "You're welcome to stay here, if you don't want to go out and face the wrath of an off-duty guard. I think laying low would be the wisest thing for you to do until he leaves or calms down, but it's up to you."

"Please don't go."

"That won't work every time you say it."

"Damn."

Lily sighed again and tugged her cloak over her. "Just take it easy, all right? You're still pale from the skooma incident."

"Maybe I'm just pale 'cause that damn Hero of Kvatch was acting really _weird_, and he kept making really _weird _comments toward me."

She frowned and paused beside the door. "He was, wasn't he," she murmured. "Acting strange, I mean. He _had _been in the Shivering Isles."

Jake shook his head firmly. "After seeing Marian, I know he wasn't acting weird enough to be crazy. She adores _fire_, for the gods' sake. And she's scared of _rain_."

"And snow," added Lily. "You're right though," she admitted with a sigh. "He wasn't behaving as oddly as she does. But she told me that a friend of hers from New Sheoth was obsessed with numbers, an Orc was afraid of cats, and her cousin was suicidal… maybe it affects people differently. I'd think the Mad God would have more of a sense of humour—or insanity—than to make them all the same."

"I suppose we'll find out eventually."

"I suppose." Lily shook her head and opened the door. "Lay low. I'd be rather upset if I came back to find you dead." When she left the house, she spotted Marius and Captain Burd not too far away, and it would have been impossible to miss the heated glare sent to her by the Imperial. While she trusted Jake not to frolic through the town stealing with wild abandon, she locked the door, just in case.

—

The conversation kept playing over in her head.

"_I think we should send Marian to find him. He's been gone for too long—after all, he only said he would go close more Oblivion Gates before the Great one opens up."_

"_This is a bad idea, Martin. She doesn't know the country; she doesn't know the animals—"_

"_I would trust no one else with the job, Jauffre. I know you reacted badly when we told you she was Manic, but if Baran went through that… that doorway in Niben Bay… even you have to admit we can't have our Hero of Kvatch insane."_

Marian smiled to herself and patted her horse's head. "He already is, for agreeing to work for Martin, right, Orinthal?" she cooed, holding the reins one-handed as she rode away from Cloud Ruler Temple. "I don't know how Jauffre hasn't seen it yet. Maybe people from this place can't tell when someone else worships Daedra. Or did. But poor Martin. Sanguine is a terrible god. He should've picked Sheogorath. There's no blood involved with him. Well… mostly."

She looked around and smiled at the day. She had been trapped inside the Temple for so long, as it had been… Marian shuddered at the thought of those evil little flakes of _evil _coming down from the clouds. But it was nice to finally leave the stuffy, smoky building, if it was only to track down and bring home their missing soldier.

But if he had gone to Niben Bay… that meant the portal home was still open! She still had a chance of going back to the Shivering Isles, back to New Sheoth and Bliss—back to her family, and to Orinthal. The Redguard one, not the paint horse one. She'd even be happy to see Hirrus again, though he was such a bore, talking about death and the Hill of Suicides all the time.

Another shiver shot through her at the thought of the mountain in Dementia. She had been there once, and only once, and never wanted to go again. Restless souls wandered aimlessly about, locked forever atop a hill because they had taken their own lives. It embodied the darker aspect of her lord's personality. Why anyone would want to live in Dementia was beyond her. Mania was so much nicer—except for Split. That was _too _close to Dementia.

"Oh, but _I'm_ Demented!" she exclaimed, smiling at the back of her horse's head. "Part, at least. Can you imagine if Baran did go into the portal, Orinthal? If he did go into the Fringe? Would my lord allow him entry into the Isles? Probably. I'd bet all the fire in Mania that my lord Sheogorath opened up that door to find someone to help him stop the Greymarch."

She pulled on the reins as she reached the stable outside Bruma. Could she afford to visit Lily? It was very doubtful, and if she took longer than necessary, Jauffre would probably dampen the fire in the great hall forever, or make her stand outside when it's snowing. Rather a grump sometimes, that old man, and she wasn't the only one who noticed. More than often she spotted Martin glaring daggers at the back of the grandmaster's shiny bald head.

At the thought of Martin, she shook her head and turned her horse away from Bruma. The poor man was being pushed so hard to learn all about being an emperor, and at the same time stop whatever problem had invaded this country. Everyone had explained it to her at least once, but she still didn't understand, and figured it was their version of the Greymarch. Invading Daedric Prince bent on mayhem and change? Yes, that sounded like Jyggalag. Maybe Cyrodiil or Tamriel or wherever she was had a Greymarch, just like the Shivering Isles. If so, Martin and her lord Sheogorath should partner up to stop them. With Blades, Legionnaires, golden saints and dark seducers, they would be indestructible.

As she continued plodding down the road toward _somewhere_—neither Martin nor Jauffre gave her a true destination, but only the orders 'find Baran, and quickly'—she spotted a dark horse wandering down a bend up ahead of her.

"What a pretty horse," she said to herself. "Oh, but not as pretty as you, Orinthal."

She barely made it another metre before she heard the horse's scream. Marian yanked on the reins and forced her paint horse to a halt, listening. The horse ahead was panicking loudly, but it sounded like someone was taking desperate measures to hush it up. Then there was a shout, a thud, and everything became eerily quiet, save for the horse's frightened whinnies.

There was a menacing growl up ahead, and a voice snarled, "Look what you did, you clumsy pig! They will hear it for miles!"

"I'll shut it up, don't worry!" a deep, booming voice exclaimed hurriedly. "Hush now, horsey. Be quiet, please. Did you get him?"

"Yes. Leave that animal. We have what we need."

There was a loud rustling of bushes and trees, and the voices vanished. Marian stared at the bend in the road, bewildered. Had she just heard a kidnapping? Jabbing her heels into Orinthal's flanks, she urged him onwards until she came to the bend. There stood the black horse, pawing nervously at the ground where it had been tied to a tree. Upon seeing her, it squealed and stamped about in a panic.

Marian's eyes widened and she slid off her horse, landing with grace. "By Sheogorath," she whispered, horrified as she approached the antsy animal. There, tied to the bulging saddlebags, was a long, slim katana, and on the ground was a black and red boot—a Daedric boot.

She gasped and picked it up, looking between it and the sword. The weapon of a Blade, and the boot of a warrior.

"They have Baran."


	18. Gate to hell

Was it wrong that she didn't find this… arrangement in the least awkward? She should have. Any logical person could have told her that. She was surprised Baran hadn't—but then, he had just returned from the Asylums of Sheogorath, hadn't he? And he had been more than ecstatic.

It was _Jake_, after all—the man who charmed her into going upstairs in an inn, tried to rape her, stalked her halfway across the country, picked her pocket, scared the life out of her, threatened her after meeting with the most notorious man in the country, and ended up pulling her into more trouble than he was worth. And he was probably worth a lot, homelessness and pennilessness aside—he _was _of noble blood, after all.

But then… he was also the man who flirted incessantly with her, broke into the home of the Blades just to see her, went into Oblivion with her and _stayed there_ when he didn't have to, drank himself into a coma to flirt _more _and kiss her, waltzed into a dangerous city just to find her, and got himself addicted to skooma just to get the courage to talk to her again.

But it was _Jake_. Some part of her mind couldn't comprehend what she had done, and what she was feeling. He had been a complete ass to her, but he had risked his life to save her.

What the hell was she supposed to feel?

And she really didn't know that much about him. He was a thief, he didn't like killing—though apparently he had a natural knack for it, according to Lucien Lachance—he had very few close friends, a violent father and dismissive, bitter family members. What she really wanted was to somehow talk to his family to see what they were like—Jacob Bercarius the Fifth and his former love, Ida. She desperately hoped he was like his mother. The fifth Jacob of the family did not seem like the type of fellow one wants to take on a picnic. After all, you never know when he might yank up one of the bread knives and stab you with it for not being a good nobleman.

Unfortunately, going to talk to his family probably wouldn't go over well with him, so she'd have to do without it.

A hand clapped onto her shoulder, and Lily jolted out of her reverie. She had been standing uselessly in the corner of the Tap and Tack for the past… fifteen minutes, judging by how low the candles had burned.

"Are you feeling well, Lily?" Olav asked, giving her shoulder a hearty squeeze.

"I'm… I'm fine," she murmured, blinking and rubbing her eyes. She really wasn't, but she wasn't about to tell her employer that. "Was there something you needed?"

The big Nord shook his head. "No, no, it's dead today. Everyone's too busy stocking up for the winter months. You seem distant."

"I'm… fine," she said again.

Olav sighed and sat down on a chair in front of her. The little wooden object groaned under his weight. "Ongar told me that you'd be staying at home for a few days. Something about helping out an old friend."

Lily rubbed her cheek and stared into the dancing flame of a nearby candle. "Yes… but I thought I should come back for a bit. He's okay now."

"Is he at your house?"

_Yes and probably getting into everything, going places he shouldn't, and wandering about in the nude_.

Lily simply nodded.

A corner of the Nord's mouth turned up into a smile. "Go home, Lily. I can handle things here. The worst thing that can happen is some guards coming in for a drink after patrol, and I don't think a sweet little lady should be here for that. Guards can get pretty bad after a long day and a few drinks."

"Are you sure?" But she was already folding up her cloth and putting down the plates she had been holding for a quarter of an hour.

Olav chuckled and gestured to the door. "Please. From what I heard, you had a trying few days with this friend of yours, and you don't need me breathing down your neck."

"Thanks. You're the best, Olav." Lily smiled at him before grabbing up her cloak and stepping out into the street. The smile faded as soon as she wasn't around anyone, and her mind instantly whipped into a whirlwind again. She had to tell her father and sister about Jake, of course. But how would they take it? They probably wouldn't remember Jake unless she prodded them to, as they had a lot of people stopping at the farm. But his presence there had been a milestone. And, Lily recalled with a little chuckle, Marie had been immediately enamoured with him.

And now that she was… what was a good word for it? Involved? That made her think of Martin, how he had fervently scolded her for 'getting involved' with Jake—and that thought made her grimace, for she had been anything _but _involved at the time.

Well, whatever she was, she had no chance of joining a chapel again, she thought. And she didn't even know where this 'involvement' was headed.

Thankfully, she didn't see Marius on her trip back to her house. After stamping the snow off her boots, she unlocked the door and slipped into the warm little hut.

"Olav let me go early today, and I never seem to be needed at Novaroma and Nord Winds, so…" Lily trailed off as she tossed her cloak over a chair and stepped from her boots. Jake hadn't seemed to have moved. He was still on the bed, only now he was reading something.

"What is that?" she asked, frowning as she approached him. He didn't reply, only kept reading, so she looked over his shoulder and immediately recognized the writing as her own. Putting her hands on her hips, she admonished, "You're reading my childhood diary?"

"I had a feeling your sister had the hots for me," was his very off-track response.

"That's an invasion of privacy, Jacob." Lily went to reach over his shoulder and take it, but he hunched over it. Lily glowered at him. "I'm being serious."

"When do you leave the farm? Oh, found it. When do you start gushing about Martin?"

"Jacob Reman Bercarius the Sixth," she said hotly, and he shot her a dark glower. Lily returned the look with a smug smile at knowing his full—and rather embarrassing—name. "You stop reading this instant."

"Okay, _Mother_." He hesitated, flipped the page, and yelped when Lily smacked his head. "Okay, jeez, no need to start hitting me." Rather reluctantly he handed the book back, and Lily dropped it in the locked chest it had previously been in. Sneaky thief had picked the lock.

Jake patted the bed beside him, and Lily went to sit down. "Did you—" she managed to say before he suddenly pulled her into a kiss.

After relishing in it for a moment, Lily pushed him back and asked, "Where did that come from?"

He gave her a scoundrel's smirk before grabbing her arms and kissing her heartily once more. He broke off for just a second to say, "I was reading—" and then they were locked together again, and he stopped between kisses to explain. "When you… were sixteen and… that Redguard was… at the farm… name's Holdan… know him… used to worship Sanguine." Jake paused and grinned again, leaving Lily a little lightheaded. "No wonder he was good in the sack. They all are."

Lily didn't bother to ask how he knew, but her mind did go briefly to Martin.

"That doesn't explain this," she mentioned, smiling at the stupid look on his face.

"I was getting to that. You really explained your adventures with him in great detail. Ever think of being an author? You could get more famous than that prude Alessia Ottus, or Quill-Weave, or Casta Scribonia. Now shut up and stop asking questions, all right?"

He moved toward her again, but Lily shuffled backwards into a corner. "Do you ever think of anything else?" she asked curiously.

"Can't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Me." He frowned at her, but his irritation quickly vanished and he grabbed her ankle, pulling her back toward him. "I said shut up. Unless you just want to keep talking. Fine by me, but don't make things too difficult, okay? I won't be long."

"Oh, joy," she muttered, shaking her head. "You know how to kill a mood."

"And _you_ know how to not have one. What the hell was that?" he asked, turning and scowling at the door as the _strangest _noise erupted outside. "Was that an explosion?"

Lily shook her head. She had heard explosions caused by mages at the Mages Guild hall in Kvatch—and whatever that boom was, it sure wasn't that. "No… I don't know what it was." She started to fling her legs off the bed to go discover the problem, and Jake groaned loudly and dramatically.

"I _hate _interruptions," the thief grumbled childishly. "Why does this _keep _happening?"

Lily opened the door a bit and poked her head outside. She felt her heart fling itself out of her chest and land with a splat on the porch when she saw the crimson sky and menacing vermillion glow and heard the screams of Daedric beasts outside the city gates. The Great Gate of Oblivion had been opened, and Bruma was under siege.

Martin was here. The Blades were here. Soldiers were here. More importantly, _Martin _was here. And he wasn't invincible.

Panic rushed through her, and she stumbled back into her house, bumping into the table. She was vaguely aware that Jake was speaking to her, or trying to. Noises blurred together into one deafening, universal hum that seemed to vibrate in her head and root her to the spot.

Little words chanted through her head, the only discernable sound in the haze: _where is Baran? Where is Baran? Where is Baran!_

_Where is the Hero of Kvatch, the Blade meant to protect the Emperor when the Mythic Dawn opens a Great Gate to fetching hell!_

He had been going to find friends to help him fend off the Daedra. He wasn't in Bruma. _He was gone._

Lily felt her breath catch in her throat, and she clutched her chest as if to hold shut the hole where her heart had skydived from. _Akatosh save him_, she prayed, shutting her eyes to stop the room from spinning, _and help Jauffre and Baurus and Marian keep Martin safe._

Finally the blur of sounds ebbed away like the washing of lazy waves, and Lily's lids fluttered open again. Jake was standing in front of her, wide-eyed and frightened. He really did have lovely eyes, she noticed distractedly. Almost gold.

"Lil? Hey, are you okay? You're paler than a ghost."

"Baran's gone," she whispered, taking his proffered hand. A shudder ran through her as he pulled her into his arms. "Martin's here. He'll be fighting. He could die."

"Calm down. He'll be fine. He's the emperor—and he's got the Blades, right?"

"I've got to see him. I've got to find him."

Jake bent down to stare into her eyes. "You've got to get what you want together so you can hike up to Cloud Ruler Temple," he instructed. "Remember what Mr Hero said?"

She blinked at him. "Mr Hero?"

"Ha, got your attention. You need to go."

"You're coming with me."

"Naturally. I would've followed even if you said no."

"Stalker." Lily looked around the house and found a backpack flopped in the corner. She grabbed it, stuffed it full of clothes and a few necessities—including the dagger—and slung it on her shoulder. "I'm going to see Martin."

Jake gawked after her as she moved toward the door. "Are you _insane?_ Didn't you hear a single word Baran said? Martin's going to be fighting the _Daedra_, Lily!"

"I've fought Daedra, Jake," she retorted fiercely. "I hurt a churl on my own, and I spent _hours _trapped in Oblivion—or had you already forgotten? I don't care where you go. If you go to Cloud Ruler Temple, _fine! _But I'm going to find Martin."

He shook his head and moved in front of her, effectively blocking her path. "You're walking to your own death."

Was that sadness in his voice? She couldn't give a damn.

Lily jabbed his chest with a finger. "Go to Cloud Ruler Temple, go to the inn, go to the Imperial City—go _somewhere_. I'm going to Martin, and I'm helping out if I can. If he sends me to the Temple, that's fine. But I'm going to see what I can do anyways. You can't stop me."

His eyes narrowed menacingly, but he didn't respond for some time. Finally, he said, "I know I can't. And you can rest assured knowing I'll bring flowers to your grave."

Lily shoved past him and marched from her house without another word or a backward glance.

—

Somebody had viciously kicked him in the forehead with a pointy boot, and his brains were spilling onto his lap.

Or at least, that's how it felt.

"Hey! He's awake!" somebody shouted, _very loudly_.

The noise seemed to stab his ears, and he groaned, prying open one eye to see a tall, beefy Orc standing in front of him with a frown on his green face.

He tried to lift his arm to rub his head, hoping it would ease the pain that was thudding away, but he couldn't move. "Wh-Why… why can't I…?" he stammered breathlessly.

"Burden spell. So you don't run off. He's definitely awake," the Orc confirmed.

Something slithered up behind him in the darkness, and one piercing green eye narrowed on him. "Evidently. How nice to see you again, Blade."

Who was talking? He wanted desperately to rub his eyes, but he couldn't lift his hands to do it. He blinked ferociously instead, and peered through the dark to see a dark brown Khajiit, whose face was mangled and torn, and whose eye was missing.

Familiarity flashed through him, despite the horrific slashes on the feline face. "Dar… Dar'vaba…"

"Congratulations, Hero. You have a memory. Go back to the Sanctuary, Gogron. I can deal with this one myself."

"Are you sure, Vaba?" The Orc shifted uncomfortably beside the Khajiit. "I mean, he's the Hero of Kvatch. He's dealt with a lot more than assassins."

"And he is burdened. He cannot move. We have his weapons. We have his armour. He is little more than a man," Dar'vaba spat, showing his broken teeth in a sneer. "A man with a fancy title."

"I… I have to be somewhere," Baran mumbled as memories popped into his head. "B-Bruma… Great Gate… I have to stop it…"

"You are still near Bruma, Blade. But you will not be closing anymore Oblivion Gates until I have what I want."

"And… and what's… what's that?"

Oh, gods, the pain in his head was getting worse.

Dar'vaba growled very quietly. "I am ending this here, Hero. You will bring the mage, and she will bring Cub. This did not work last time, but it will work now, with more at stake. I am no Lucien Lachance," he hissed, leaning down closer to Baran. "You will not be my 'esteemed guest.' You are my prisoner, Blade."

Baran struggled to lift his arm again, but the effort only left him gasping for air. The Khajiit chuckled and turned his back to him, murmuring something to his Orc friend. Well, if he couldn't move to find a weapon, or throttle the bastard to death, he still had Magicka.

The Khajiit faced him once more. "So tell me, Blade scum, where is Cub hiding?"

Dar'vaba couldn't read minds. He couldn't see that Baran was imagining _exactly _where Jacob Bercarius was; sitting, horror-struck, on the bed in Lily Laroque's rented home in Bruma.

"I… don't know," he lied, very poorly.

One long, evil claw rose up before his eyes. "Tell me better answers. What is a hero who has been dismembered, after all?"

Baran kept his mouth shut, peering fearfully up at the maniac.

The remaining eye in Dar'vaba's face narrowed, and he leaned right close to Baran, so his whiskers tickled the Redguard's cheeks. "Tell me." The claw lightly touched Baran's cheek, releasing pent up magical energy.

The Khajiit snarled and leaped backwards, cradling his burned hand. "Magic," he spat, scowling at Baran. "Silence."

Baran, spent from the effort of trying to move and summoning Magicka to burn the cat, didn't have the energy to protest the new spell that washed over him. An uncomfortable tingling passed over him, and he knew he had been silenced.

"When this is gone, Hero, you will tell me what I want to know."

_I've been to prison_, Baran thought, narrowing his eyes at the cat as though he could transfer the message with his mind. _I've faced the brutality of the guards, and other prisoners, and the torture of being locked in a tiny stone room for two years. Nothing you can do will make me talk_.

It was almost as though the Khajiit understood him. "I know very persuasive things, Blade. You will be chirping like a bird before the day is over."

Baran watched in silence as Dar'vaba vanished into the darkness, and returned moments later with rusted callipers in his paws. And he continued to watch, unable to help himself—unable to run, to fight, to cast spells—when the points of the device opened and a malicious smile crossed over the face of the assassin.

—

Everyone in Bruma was talking excitedly about the new Septim heir. The exquisitely armoured man who had waltzed through town, a mask of bravery on his face, and who was cheered on by the people who hadn't known he existed until that very day.

The only relief Lily received from hearing the rumours was that Martin had armour. He wasn't about to frolic about with some Daedra in priests' robes.

The guards weren't letting people leave the city, so Lily used a chameleon spell on herself and waited until the gates opened to let some straggling guards out to the battle. Silently she followed, still invisible.

She expected the Great Gate to be right outside Bruma, but the stables hadn't changed, and everything seemed normal. Everything except the sounds of battle farther down the road.

Running past the guards, she hurried down the Silver Road until she came to a little clearing beside it. There, she saw two Gates nearby each other, with Daedra leaping from the fiery cores, attacking the men assembled in the middle.

Red sunlight glinted off the Blades armour worn by Jauffre and Baurus, and the different armours donned by the soldiers Baran managed to round up before the Gates opened. But where was Martin?

Well, considering the other soldiers weren't being bombarded by Daedra, _he _was probably the one that three xivilai, two spider daedra, one dremora and five scamps were interested in, right in the middle of the battle.

A figure she _thought _was Jauffre leaped into the fray and fought off the dremora and scamps, and soon she could see Martin, valiantly fighting off the Daedric army.

The people of Bruma were right. His armour _was _exquisite.

Lily stood blankly before the battlefield for a moment, before noticing a complete absence of a few important people.

Baran—she hadn't expected to see him there.

But she _had _expected to see Marian.

The only armour in the throng of soldiers belonged to Cyrodiil. Militia from Bruma, Cheydinhal, Chorrol, Anvil, Leyawiin, Bravil, the Blades, Martin…

But nobody from Mania with armour from Dementia.

Lily spat a very foul word under her breath and bit her lip, surveying the battle. Daedra were streaming from the two open Oblivion Gates, but the soldiers seemed to be doing a good job of fighting them off; Jauffre and Martin in particular were sights to behold. And neither of the Gates looked particularly great, so maybe the Great Gate wasn't going to happen.

"Hey!" somebody shouted behind her. Lily whirled around to see the two soldiers she had snuck out of Bruma with. "Get back into the city!"

Lily yelped and hurried away from them as they started toward her. She _had _to stay and help since Baran and Marian weren't here.

"You! Breton!" the other guard yelled. "Get—holy gods!" The panic in his voice made Lily stop in her tracks, and she glanced back to see that they had stopped pursuing her and were gawking past her. "The Nine save us all."

She looked over her shoulder and immediately felt a weight of dread. The third Oblivion Gate had opened.

The Great Gate.

She pried her eyes from the monstrous door of fire to see Jauffre and Martin both looking anxiously around. They were looking for Baran, no doubt.

"He's gone," she whispered, then shouted louder, "He's gone!"

Nobody heard her except the two guards behind her.

Lily summoned Magicka to her fingers and jogged down the slope toward the fighters. "Jauffre! Jauffre!" she called, panicked. The old grandmaster clunked around in his awkward heavy armour and gaped at her as she ran down to him.

"Sister Lily? What are you doing here? Get to Cloud Ruler Temple!"

She stubbornly shook her head. "No! You need help!"

"Not from you; it's too dangerous." His gloved hand rested on her shoulder, and he gave her a worried look. "Go to the Temple, please. Martin will have my head should something happen to you."

"Grandmaster!" a Blade cried, hopping up beside his leader. "We won't be able to fight them off for long!"

"Defend us for a moment, would you?" Jauffre demanded shortly. The Blade nodded and readied his sword for any Daedric attacks. Turning back to Lily, Jauffre lightly squeezed her shoulder. "I know you want to help. I know by now that once you have your mind set on something, you will fight to do it. But this is more dangerous than you can possibly—"

"Baran's gone!" Lily interrupted. "He's gone to find more people to help fight!"

"We know that!" the old man snapped. "And we sent Marian to get him! Now we have no hero to close this fetching Great Oblivion Gate before it destroys Bruma and the whole of fetching Tamriel!"

Lily wiped her hair away from her face; even being this close to the Gates was making her uncomfortably warm. "Isn't there anyone who can go in?"

"Martin will try; I'll stop him. Baurus…" Jauffre hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. "Baurus isn't doing well. We really have nobody to spare. We _need _Baran and Marian. We can't do this without them."

She licked her lips and peeked around him to see the Great Gate. "How long do you think we have until all hell breaks loose?"

"My guess, and Martin's, is that they're using a siege crawler. It's what destroyed Kvatch when the Great Gate was opened there. They aren't fast movers." Jauffre sighed heavily and shut his eyes. "An hour, tops. Then Bruma is lost and the Empire has fallen."

"But it takes _hours _to get to the sigil stone in a regular Gate!" Lily exclaimed shrilly. "How can somebody inexperienced do it in less than an hour?"

"Precisely why we need Baran or Marian, or both. We don't have anyone else who understands the layout of Oblivion. I understand you joined Baran once, but that isn't enough, and you are _not _going into a Great Gate alone, or at all."

"I know. But someone has to."

Jauffre gritted his teeth and turned to glower at the Great Gate. "We're wasting time. Somebody needs to do it."

"I will."

Lily nearly bit down on her tongue at the sound of that voice. She whirled around just as Jauffre jumped, and they both gawked at the pale, sickly figure standing behind them.

"_You?_" Jauffre said disbelievingly. "You can't fight!"

Jake managed a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes—which were surrounded by dark circles anyways. "Not very well. But I think you don't need someone to fight. If you've got practically no time to get to the tower thing, then you'll need someone fast and quiet. I'm fast and quiet. It's my goddamn profession."

As soon as Lily saw the pondering look on Jauffre's face, she gasped and shook her head. "No. No! You can't go into Oblivion, Jake! You're sick!"

"I _was _sick," he argued softly. "I'm better now. Or don't you remember the shit you went through getting me that way?"

Lily pursed her lips, but didn't reply.

"Why? What happened?" Jauffre asked, glancing between the two in confusion.

They all had forgotten they were standing in the midst of a battle.

Jake waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you know, skooma addiction gone bad. But I'm your man for getting that thing closed if our almighty hero and his crazy sidekick are missing in action. I'm quiet. I'm sneaky. And I can go invisible, if it helps. Illusion is the only magic I can stand."

Dread twisted inside Lily as she watched the suggestion work through Jauffre's mind. He was going to send Jake into Oblivion. Jake, who had been there once, who was recovering from a bad skooma problem, who had virtually no way of defending himself should the Daedra catch him…

"If you send him, I'm—" she started to say, but Jauffre cut her off with a sharp motion.

"You are _not_ going into that Gate, Sister Lily, and if I have to tie you to a tree, I'll do it," he ordered sternly. "You, Bercarius, do you need anything to go in there?"

"Nothing I can get right now."

Lily thought she was the only one who could see the fear in his eyes.

Jauffre nodded shortly and gestured to the Great Gate. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Jake licked his lips anxiously and turned to Lily. "I've got to do this, Lil. I know you don't get it, but there's no way in hell any of these guys can get it done. I'm sure that old goat and Marty could, but they're busy."

Lily held back a cry and satisfied herself with gripping his hand. His palm was damp. "Promise me something, Jake."

"Anything, Lil."

"Don't get yourself killed."

Her heart warmed slightly when he flashed her that scoundrel's smirk. "Don't you trust me at all? I've managed to keep alive with the Dark Brotherhood chasing me for _years_. I'll be fine."

"You'd better be."

Jake merely watched her for a moment, a slow frown crossing his brow, until Jauffre nudged his arm. "Bercarius, it's now or never. If you're going to be Bruma's hero, do it right, eh?" the old man said, unsheathing his sword with a metallic shriek.

The thief nodded shortly and bent to kiss her. A moment later, he vanished altogether, and he was gone.

Lily slowly unclenched the fist she was holding at her side and stared at the Great Gate. The flickering flames seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then they were very still.

"He's in," Jauffre murmured.

She jerked her head in a quick nod.

This was it, then.


	19. Heroes

Baurus was dying. She knew that immediately, but she was too afraid to voice it as she and a young soldier from Bruma named Wolfe dragged him from the battlefield at Jauffre's request.

Lily merely watched in silence as Wolfe unclipped the heavy, dented steel armour and laid it aside. The puncture wounds in the metal plates were bloodied, and Baurus groaned agonizingly when they were removed.

He wasn't in much better shape.

The shirt and breeches under his armour were torn and stained reddish-brown with blood, and he was unusually pale. Perspiration drenched his body, making his garments cling to him. He was shaking too badly to hold Wolfe's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Lily asked gently, though she knew he had to feel like hell.

The Redguard's mouth twitched into a feeble smile, but it was almost immediately cut off by a loud moan. "I-I'm great…" he panted. His eyelids fluttered, but she could see that he was trying to stay strong.

Lily rested a hand on his chest, where blood was seeping from a long gash. Clamping her teeth over her lip, she glanced up at Wolfe. "Get Jauffre. I don't care if he's fighting Mehrunes Dagon himself; get Jauffre."

Wolfe nodded once and hurried back into the throng.

Lily lightly wiped his forehead and smiled comfortingly. "You did a very good job, Baurus," she murmured. "Martin is alive and well because of you."

The Blade managed a genuine smile. "H-He can take c-care of himself… he's a r-real fighter…"

"I know."

Baurus lifted a trembling hand and clasped it on Lily's forearm. "He l-loves you a l-lot, S-Sister… he's j-just afraid…"

Lily smiled and laid her hand over Baurus'. "He loves me as a sister. He already told me."

"Th-Things used… used to be different…"

She kept her words to herself when she saw Wolfe returning with Jauffre at his heels. When they arrived at her side, Jauffre immediately dropped to his knees beside Baurus and picked up his other hand.

"Baurus, I'm here," he whispered. "How are you?"

"G-Good…"

Jauffre's eyes lifted to Lily's, questioning, and all she could do was shrug. She didn't know whether Baurus would live or die; she could stem the blood flow with spells, but there was no guarantee that they would hold long enough to get him to a proper healer.

"B-Baran never showed?" Baurus asked, blinking tiredly between Lily and Jauffre.

"No, he didn't. We don't know where he is," the grandmaster admitted.

"Then… then who's g-going to close the G-Gate?"

Jauffre gestured to Lily with his chin. "Her man. Bercarius."

"The… the thief?"

Jauffre could only nod.

Baurus moaned again, and Lily tightened her grip on his hand. "I… I wish B-Baran was here… h-he…" He stopped to cough hoarsely; droplets of blood sprayed from his lips as his lungs struggled to heal.

The old Blade reached over and rested his hand on his friend's cheek. "Baran's with you, no matter where his body may be, Baurus," he whispered. "He'll be with you through anything." At Lily's questioning glance, he explained, "Ever since they worked together in the sewers in the Imperial City, they've been very close."

It broke Lily's heart to know Baurus would die without his best friend at his side.

"Is there anything you can do, Sister?" Jauffre asked, watching her pleadingly.

"I can heal basic wounds, but some are too much for me. His ribs appear to be broken, and there's probably massive internal damage."

"Do you think…" Wolfe ventured, glancing at the priestess and the grandmaster. "If you could heal the minor injuries, could Emperor Martin fix the rest, at least until we can get him back to a chapel?"

Lily pondered it as the three watched her silently. "It could work," she said dubiously. "Martin would… he'd want to see him anyways."

"Get back to the battle, soldier," Jauffre barked at Wolfe. "And take Martin's place. Tell him to get over here immediately."

"Yes, sir!"

Watching the guard's retreating back, Jauffre sighed heavily and shook his head. "We desperately need Baran and Marian."

"You said you sent her out to find him?" Lily asked, and he nodded. "She'll find him. She'll bring him back."

"I know," said Jauffre's lips, but his eyes said, 'Not soon enough.'

Clanking metal distracted them, and they looked up to see Martin trudging toward them. He seemed fairly unharmed, save for a dent or two here and there, and he was panting heavily as he approached. Sweat slicked his long brown hair back, but he looked rather victorious.

"Things are going well back there, Jauffre," he said excitedly as he stabbed the ground with his sword and rested on it. "We're holding the Daedra back, and we should be successful. Who went into the Gate? I didn't quite see."

"Jake," Lily whispered.

Martin's stunning blue eyes flicked her way. "Oh. I'm sorry. He went alone?"

"Yes. But he's capable, I think. Martin, Baurus needs your help," Jauffre explained, squeezing Baurus' hand briefly. The Redguard wheezed as a response.

Martin's armour screeched as he crouched beside Lily. She shuffled to the side and let Baurus rest his head in her lap, leaving his hand free for Martin.

"You did great, Baurus," Martin said, smiling at his friend and protector. "I thought that daedroth was going to get me, but you stopped it just in time."

"Y-You could've… stopped…" Baurus' words were cut off by another groan, and Lily saw Martin pale considerably.

"Lily," the priest said softly, "can you heal his surface wounds? The cuts and scratches; it'll help stop bleeding."

She nodded and cupped her hands over the bigger of the superficial wounds. Warmth filled her fingers and they glowed a pleasant blue as the fibres in the injury stitched themselves together. A moment later, Baurus was in slightly better condition.

Lily shuffled back and Martin lightly prodded his friend's abdomen. Baurus groaned loudly, and Martin bit his lip, carefully touching here and there. Every time, the Blade would moan or curse as pain shot through him.

Lily feared her use of Magicka was in vain.

Finally, after a few minutes, Martin swallowed visibly and blinked rapidly. Lily recognized that look. The beautiful blue eyes became even more like the ocean as they filled with tears.

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. She didn't even know Baurus.

Unlike Lily and Martin—who had given in to emotion and let silent tears streak his cheeks—Jauffre remained stony. "Baurus. You have been more than a friend in all these years together. I don't know what I would have done without your help in this crisis—you were as much of an influence on Baran as Martin and I."

The Redguard's eyes were squeezed painfully shut. He knew and accepted what was going to happen.

The old grandmaster lightly touched Baurus' forehead. "Without you, he would've just been a lost kid looking for work in the Blades. You made him a hero." Jauffre's voice trembled, just a bit. Their portion of the world seemed to have time stop; all was silent, even with the battle so nearby, and for a few moments the four of them said nothing. Finally, Jauffre wiped his eyes and leaned down to kiss Baurus' forehead. "Your sword will have a place next to Glenroy and Renault's in Cloud Ruler Temple," he whispered shakily.

Baurus pried open his eyes; they were misted with pain, and couldn't seem to properly focus on anything. His gaze shifted slowly from Jauffre to Martin, before his lips quirked into a smile for the last time. His movements were jerky and shaky, but he managed to give his comrades each a comforting squeeze of the hands before shutting his eyes and letting the inevitable take him.

And then it was over.

Lily didn't know what to expect when someone so deserving of life had to die. But Baurus died for a cause he believed in; he was serving his Emperor; he was a Blade.

She glanced up at Martin and wasn't surprised to see him trembling with stifled sobs. Jauffre had let tears free, but he continued to stare impassively at the earthly remains of his friend.

After many long minutes, Jauffre cleared his throat and stood up. Martin and Lily did the same, though Martin took the time to neatly rearrange Baurus' limbs.

"We must mourn later, sir," Jauffre said to Martin. "The gods have him in Aetherius now; we can't give him the service he needs until this battle is over and the Gate is gone."

Martin nodded, but said nothing.

"Sister," Jauffre continued, looking to Lily, "we may need your help after all. I'll have that Wolfe child guard his—his body."

Lily and Martin followed Jauffre back into the battlefield, only to see that the soldiers and militia were working wonders on the Daedric army. Less demons were leaping from Oblivion to join the fight, and even though the men of Cyrodiil were tiring, they were still valiantly holding the ground.

Jauffre immediately rushed back into the fight and lifted his sword against a xivilai, but Martin hesitated. Lily stood beside him, watching the Great Gate. Something seemed odd about it… she thought she could see two figures standing behind it, but the shimmering Magicka could've been playing tricks on her eyes.

"It's all gone to hell," Martin murmured softly. His voice cracked with emotion. "I can't rule a broken Empire."

Lily peered up at him. She had never thought of Martin as _old_, even though he was many years her senior. But the ordeal with Dagon and the Daedra had seemed to put years onto his face, and made him weary beyond his age.

"You have to," she whispered. "Nobody else can."

Martin grimaced slightly, but didn't reply immediately. He glowered at the Gate in the distance for a moment, before saying, "Did you see that?"

Lily glanced back at where he was staring. There: two figures, shuffling toward the edge of the portal. "The people? Yes."

"Those aren't Daedra."

Suddenly, loud whistling shrieked through the air and everyone, man and Daedra alike, immediately stopped fighting. Cringes were shared all around at the deafening noise, but all eyes were fixed on the Great Gate.

Lily knew that sound. She remembered it clearly from the night at Kvatch when the Gate was shut.

But something seemed different. There was something _coming out of the portal_.

Terror spiked through her. Mechanical, unearthly, fiery, _Daedric._

A siege engine.

Had Jake failed?

The whistling grew louder and louder, until it felt like her head would explode if it didn't stop soon. Then everything felt like it went into slow motion. The siege engine was halfway through the Gate. The fiery magic shimmered, flicked, and a body tumbled out on top of it and collapsed on the ground. The walls supporting the hellish portal snapped, cracked, and crumbled, landing heavily on the engine. The whistling stopped. And in the silence, a large, humming ball rolled out from underneath the engine and came to a halt, bumping against the leg of the figure sprawled near the broken Daedric machine.

Lily was vaguely aware that Martin had grabbed her arms and was whooping with delight, just as the rest of the soldiers broke into grateful cheers. The remaining Daedra stared; some ran off, and the rest shuffled anxiously away from the men in uniform.

She felt like a ragdoll.

While everyone else was celebrating that the Great Gate had been closed, her eyes remained on the ruins of the evil portal. She hadn't imagined the figures behind it. A maimed cat and a blooded and unconscious man came into view when the stone collapsed, and she knew she was the only one who saw when the cat dumped the man he carried on the ground beside Jake and whipped a knife from his belt.

"Oh, gods," Lily gasped, seeing the knife glint in the reddish sunlight. "Oh, gods. Martin. Martin!"

"What?" He was grinning delightedly; he hadn't seen.

Lily couldn't tear her eyes from the scene. The dagger was pressed into the throat of one unconscious man, as sharp claws were pressed into the other's. "Martin, it's Dar'vaba. He's got Baran. He's got Baran and Jake."

Martin stopped grinning and was suddenly serious. "Oh, by the Nine." Grabbing her hand, he tugged her down the slope toward the battlefield. They shoved through the militia and remaining Daedra until they stopped by the siege engine. The humming was louder here; the sigil stone was simply sitting there, stopped from rolling by Jake's leg.

"Release them now," Martin demanded sternly.

Dar'vaba was a horrid sight. The missing eye; the torn mouth; the stumps for teeth. Lily cringed and instead focussed her attention on Baran. The knight was blooded and beaten; bruises and slashes drenched his limp body.

"I will let them go for no one, unless you meet my deal," the Khajiit snarled. His remaining green eye narrowed at the soon-to-be emperor. "Refuse, and both will die."

The soldiers were deathly silent behind him. Lily's hand was damp were she clung to Martin. Baran looked on the verge of death. Jake was burned and bleeding, but nothing seemed life-threatening. Both were breathing loudly and raggedly—but neither had the shallow gasps of a man about to die.

"And what is your deal?" Martin asked diplomatically.

He could say he wasn't ready—he'd be lying. He _sounded _like an emperor.

Dar'vaba nodded at the men slumped before him. He poked the dagger into the hollow of Jake's throat. "This one is what I want." Then he ran his claw over the fluttery pulse in Baran's neck. "This one is what you want. Take the hero, and I get the thief. Take the thief, and I get the hero. Take too long to decide, and both will have the blood of their necks stain this snow."

"What will you do if you keep him?" Martin asked, gesturing to Jake. Lily started when she looked at him again. Something in his breathing had changed. He was awake.

A malicious grin looked even more menacing on someone who was missing half their mouth. "He goes with me. I will deal with him how I desire."

"And him?" This time Baran was pointed to.

"He goes to my family," Dar'vaba explained vaguely. "They want a new pet."

Lily looked up at Martin and caught his gaze. _Either way, they die_. She wished he could read her thoughts. That way, he'd know that she knew he had to choose Baran. As much as she hated it, as much as it broke her heart, she knew it. After all, wasn't the life of the Hero of Kvatch more important than a petty thief?

Martin winced slightly and she knew he had come to the same conclusion. His first act as emperor, and he wasn't even crowned.

Politicians could never please everyone.

"If I find you have harmed Baran beyond use, you will not be alive long enough to kill Bercarius," Martin promised darkly.

The Khajiit grinned evilly and he pulled his hand away from Baran. "I appreciate the choice," he purred. His claws ran lightly over Jake, and he gasped, letting everyone know he was awake. "I have hunted long for my prey. Isn't that right, Cub?"

Lily didn't realize she was crying until Dar'vaba yanked Jake back so he was sitting up, and she could see the full extent of his injuries. Burns littered his chest and the front of his shirt was nearly singed right off. His hands and wrists were red and raw, and he was pale and sweaty and looked ready to faint again.

'_I'm sorry_,' she mouthed to him as she lifted a hand to wipe her cheeks.

He had gone to Oblivion just to be captured. For a split second, she detested Martin and Jauffre and Baran and their whole stupid crisis.

Seeing it was safe, Martin gestured to Baran, and a collection of soldiers rushed forward and picked him up. After he was carried to safety, Martin glared daggers into Dar'vaba. "The Dark Brotherhood will fall, Khajiit," he promised.

When he turned to tend to Baran, Lily clomped forward, unable to stop herself. She dropped to her knees in front of Jake and Dar'vaba, who were both crouching in the slushy snow. Before thinking, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jake's chapped and dry lips, and they remained locked that way until Dar'vaba knocked her back. Jake snarled something, but he was shut up when the Khajiit hit him.

Lily wiped muddy snow from her face and got to her feet. "Burn in hell, housecat," she spat, before turning and marching away. Tears streamed down her face, momentarily warming her cheeks before the cold made them freeze. Snow, blood, mud and sweat clung to her clothes, and the smell of burned flesh was stuck in her nose. But she didn't look back. She didn't turn to watch Dar'vaba force Jake to his feet and lead him away. She didn't look at Martin when he watched her apologetically.

She hated goodbyes. And this was the worst yet.


	20. Man of myth finally revealed!

"Find out what he did to Jake!"

"I can't just do that, Lily!"

"Why not? You would've used all your resources to get Baran back. Why not Jake?"

"He isn't the Hero of Kvatch! He isn't necessary to saving the Empire!"

Lily narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists at her side. Cloud Ruler Temple was stuffy and hot, and it didn't help that they were so close their noses were nearly touching. "You bastard," she breathed. "You're valuing Baran's life above someone else's. What if it had been me? What if the choice had been between Baran and I?"

Martin's eyelid twitched, but he said nothing.

Lily swallowed a very uncomfortable lump in her throat. "I'm not necessary to saving the Empire. I can't go into Oblivion or fight monsters or stand down Mehrunes Dagon. But what if, Martin? Would you choose Baran then? Would you have let him take me to my potential death? Jake meant nothing to you. He meant everything to me."

"He isn't vital to—"

"Martin, he went into that Great Gate when no one else would or could. He had no obligation to you, or Jauffre, or the Blades, but he went in because he knew he had to. He was _sick_, Martin. He could've died in there. But he went anyways. _He's _the Saviour of Bruma, _not _Baran. The stupid fetching people of Bruma think Baran went into that Gate because he was the one to walk into the city afterwards. None of them even know it was Jake who did it." Lily's glare slackened, though she still eyed him heatedly. "They're building a statue for Baran."

Martin had the decency to look away. "I heard."

"Dar'vaba didn't kill Jake," Lily said softly. "He'll want him to suffer first. He's been chasing Jake for three years, and now that he's got him, he's not letting his prize go that quickly. Jake's still alive."

"You think."

She snorted. "I _know_. Dar'vaba is a sadist. He'll break Jake somehow—he'll torture him physically or mentally or both, until he actually wants to die."

"I can't use resources for this, Lily. With the sigil stone and the welkynd stone and the blood of Tiber Septim, we have everything we need to open a gate to Paradise. Once we do that, the Amulet of Kings is ours, and I can be crowned emperor." Martin licked his lips and she saw the nervousness in his eyes. "I have to focus my energy on getting Baran better and into Paradise to deal with Mankar Camoran. Once I'm emperor, I'll crack down on the Dark Brotherhood. You've told me where they hide out in Cheydinhal, after all."

Lily shook her head. "It'll be too late by then, Martin. You don't know how long it might take for Baran to heal. And it might take days, or even _weeks _for him to get through Paradise. We don't know what it's like there. Jake will be dead by then."

"It isn't just Baran, Lily. We have to take care of—of Baurus, too." Martin shut his eyes, and Lily cringed, feeling a little bad at raging at him. Baran had _not _taken it well when some idiot Blades told him right after he woke up, writhing in pain, that his best friend had been killed. "According to Caroline, a ceremony for a fallen Blade can be pretty elaborate. It's only been a few months since the last one, after Captain Renault and Glenroy were killed getting the Emperor to safety."

Lily stared up at him pleadingly, her rage and energy spent. "So you won't help me."

Martin sighed and looked down at the floor. "I want to, Lily. I swear to you I do. But I can't. Please understand. I'll give you Marian to work with if you would like. I'm sure she'll want to go to Paradise with Baran; you could have her until then."

"A loaner partner," Lily said dryly. "Thanks."

"It's all I can do, Lily."

She merely watched him for a few long moments. Pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but the pain inside her was greater.

"I'll never forgive you for this, Martin." And she left.

—

Lily played the argument over and over in her head, but she couldn't make sense of it. She had never been _truly _angry at Martin before, until those hours after the Great Gate was closed and the Blades had all hiked back up to Cloud Ruler Temple, Lily among them.

And now, sitting in Olav's Tap and Tack with Marian at her side, listening to the citizens of Bruma rant and rave about the beautiful new statue of Baran, Saviour of Bruma and Hero of Kvatch, Lily tried to shove her thoughts of Martin away to mull about what to do.

Marian hadn't been very far away when the Great Gate opened, apparently. She had seen Baran's horse and gone on a search for him, but come up empty handed until she heard the Gate close. By the time she made it to the battleground, everyone was already on their way to the Temple, so she followed. She and Baran had been delighted to see each other, which was good for him; it was almost right after hearing the news about Baurus, and he had confessed to Lily that he had been terrified Marian had been killed too.

"It looks just like him," Jeanne Frasoric of the Mages Guild chapter exclaimed to her friend as they entered the Tap and Tack. "A very handsome gentleman, if I do say so myself. Do you think he's unattached?"

"He's got more priorities than some gossiping idiots," Lily scoffed, glowering at the women when they passed her table.

Jeanne and her friend—who was Selena Orania, Lily thought—both stopped and gawked at her. "Excuse me?" Jeanne said indignantly. "That is no way to speak to a lady."

"Some lady you are," Lily snapped. "Fuck off, would you?"

The women glared at her before fluttering off.

"Are you okay?" Marian asked softly, giving Lily a cautious look. Lily hadn't realized how much she missed Marian until she heard her soft, breathy, distant voice. "That was very unlike you."

Lily slouched in her chair and glanced sideways at Marian. "I miss Jake. And I'm so afraid that Dar'vaba's already killed him."

"Well, just go over what might happen. If Dar'vaba _didn't _kill Jake, what would he do?"

"Torture him somehow… physically, mentally, emotionally…" Lily bit her lip and pondered it. "I don't think he would take him back to Cheydinhal. For some reason, I doubt the other members of the Dark Brotherhood would appreciate him toying with Jake before killing him, even if he's had the contract for three years. So that rules Cheydinhal out. And they have no reason to really go to any of the other cities, so—wait." Something popped into Lily's head; something she had somehow forgotten in the chaos. "The Imperial City."

"What about it?"

"If Dar'vaba didn't take him to Cheydinhal, he probably brought him to the Imperial City. It has meaning. Jake grew up there, he spent his life there, he's _wanted _there, and the Gray Fox is there. Everything in Jake's life is in that city."

Marian smiled very slightly. "Not quite."

Lily grimaced and picked at the table. "The majority of Jake's life is in that city."

"All right. Did you want to go and ask about him?"

"Whatever Dar'vaba's doing, he won't be bragging about it."

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Not a second after the words left her mouth, the Nord manservant Gromm burst into the Tap and Tack, a piece of crinkled parchment in his big fist. The inn immediately went silent, and all eyes were on him.

"Have you seen the latest edition of the Courier?" he exclaimed loudly. He fumbled with the paper and held it up so everyone could get a glimpse of it. Lily and Marian sat near the door; they could see the emblem of the Black Horse Courier clearly, as well as the simple sketch beneath it.

"What's it say, Gromm?" someone shouted at the back of the tavern.

The Nord flipped the parchment around so he could see it, and he boomed, "'Man of myth finally revealed! The Imperial Legion announced this morning that they have captured and imprisoned the notorious Gray Fox, known throughout history and Tamriel as being the leader of the supposedly fictional Thieves Guild. Watch Captain Hieronymus Lex, who has been public about his determination to cease movements by the Thieves Guild throughout his career, told the Black Horse Courier that a citizen wishing to remain anonymous arrived at the Imperial Prison early this morning with news about the Gray Fox. Using the tip, Captain Lex found the notorious leader in a shack on the waterfront, unconscious from skooma.

"'We were at first sceptical,' said Lex, when the Courier's own Urjabhi interviewed him. 'With the skooma-induced Gray Fox claims in the past, we thought this might be another prank, but our lead brought us to another member of the Thieves Guild, who confirmed that the man we had in custody was indeed the Gray Fox.'

"'While the giver of the tip remains nameless, Captain Lex was more than happy to reveal the true name of the Gray Fox. Jacob Bercarius the Sixth, known thief and murderer and son of respected nobleman Jacob Bercarius the Fifth, was wanted for numerous criminal offences in the past, and is now behind bars in the Imperial Prison, leaving Cyrodiil's streets safer for all.

"'Bercarius awaits trial by the Elder Council, who will decide whether he remains in prison or is executed," finished Gromm, looking up from the parchment and grinning at everyone in the Tap and Tack. "Hear that? The Thieves Guild _is _real, and the Gray Fox has been arrested!"

Cheers erupted through the tavern, but there were a few who didn't join in the festivities.

Lily felt as though somebody had drained her body of blood. Light-headed and dizzy, she dug her nails into the table and stared across the room, locking eyes with Ongar the World-Weary. He looked just as horrified as she felt.

The Thieves Guild _was _real. Gromm was right about that. But the Gray Fox was still at large.

Marian nudged Lily's arm, forcing her back to the present. The gorgeous blonde was smiling distantly at her, looking quite pleased. "Your hunch was correct, Lily. Congratulations. And now you know he won't be going anywhere for a while."

Lily gasped, having forgotten to inhale since Gromm finished speaking. "But he's in prison!" she choked. "Do you have any idea what the guards _do _to prisoners?"

"No. We don't have prisons in the Shivering Isles."

Lily frowned at Marian, but didn't ask any questions about it. "All right, well, we have them here, and they are very unpleasant places, I hear. That's Dar'vaba's way of torturing Jake, I bet. Handing him off to the guards as the Gray Fox, even though he knows he isn't, and letting them take care of him." Lily shuddered and shut her eyes, letting a tear squeeze through. "The Elder Council will vote to execute him."

Marian smiled in her typical far-off way. "I don't know what the Elder Council is."

"It doesn't matter. We have to go to the Imperial City. We have to get him out somehow."

"How?"

"I don't know."

Marian shrugged and got to her feet. "We'll think of something on the way there."

Lily hated Marian's optimism, but she climbed arduously to her feet and followed the Manic from the Tap and Tack.

As they trudged back to her house, Marian exclaimed, "We can get some supplies and head out right away. Why hasn't Martin become allies with my lord Sheogorath yet? It really would save so much time and effort during your Greymarch."

Lily merely rolled her eyes and went to stuff things into a backpack for the trip.

—

"So who are you again?"

Lily straightened her fine velvet dress and exhaled slowly. "Lily Bercarius, wife of Jacob Bercarius, the man imprisoned for being the Gray Fox," she lied, very carefully. Plastering a sweet smile on her face, she added, "This whole ordeal is very trying on our family, sir."

The guard frowned somewhat. "Family?"

Lily reached up to fix a loose lock of hair from the crown of braids on her head. "Yes. My parents, our children." She left out his parents; surely the whole city knew they were estranged. "It's very hectic, learning that our provider is the leader of a guild of thieves, you must understand."

His stern expression relaxed somewhat. "Of course, ma'am. You wanted to visit him, I reckon?"

"If it's not too much to ask." Lily silently cursed that she wasn't an Imperial, and wasn't a charming flirt. That would have worked wonders.

The guard nodded, but didn't look convinced. "He's in a dangerous wing of prisoners."

"He's my husband."

She could see the conflict on his face, and knew he gave in when he sighed softly. "I suppose you can visit him then. I can't guarantee you'll be given a long time, though."

"That's fine. I just need to see him, to clarify some things."

The guard opened the door to the Bastion and held it for her, peering up into the grey sky. "Maybe this storm will let up by the time you're done. It'd be a shame to get those nice clothes all wet."

Lily smiled genuinely. If she wasn't a flirt, he sure was. "Thank you."

"He's just down here." The guard shut the door to the tower behind her and began to lead her toward the west wing of the prison. He greeted a jailor along the way, telling him what he was doing with Lily, and they were granted permission to the wing.

The prison reeked of death, fear and pain. Unwashed prisoners stewed in their own filth, wounds were left to fester and nothing was cleaned regularly—or even at all. The whole corridor seemed damp, and moss grew between the heavy stone blocks that made up the walls and floor. Far off echoes of screams reached her ears, and a shiver crawled down her back like a spider.

"It's, uh, not really a place for a lady," the guard said apologetically, seeing Lily grimace.

"Hey!" a rough Dunmer voice shouted up ahead. "I hear a guard! Hear it? Hear it? Ha! I bet he's coming to take you to the White Gold Tower, boy! Even your own kind won't take pity on you. The Elder Council's going to kill you! Ha-ha! You're going to hang, Imperial! Hang!"

"Shut up, would you?"

Lily's heart skipped a beat.

"Oho, getting brave. You don't talk to Valen Dreth like that. I could break you, Imperial."

"I've known scribs tougher than you. So shut up."

He sounded exhausted. Worn, weak, and desperate.

"Hey! Dreth!" the guard escorting her called as his pace slowed. "Keep your voice down. You're going to keep the whole wing complaining."

Lily crept up behind him and peeked into a cell. Between the bars stood a dirty Dark Elf man with a vicious leer on his face. "Hm, who's this? Pretty little Breton girl, eh? Is it conjugal visit day?"

"Not for you, Dreth."

Something shuffled behind her. "Conjugal visit day? Holy fuck…"

"Bercarius, get up, you've got a visitor." The guard turned and pulled a ring of keys from his belt. "Here's his cell. He got stuck across from the most obnoxious Dark Elf in history," the guard shared, smiling ruefully at Lily. She managed to somehow return the gesture.

She exhaled calmly and turned. And there, sitting on the filthy stone slabs of a little prison opposite Dreth's was a very dirty Jacob Bercarius. He was staring at her in blunt shock.

"Lil?" he croaked. "This isn't a hallucination, right?"

"Skooma's worn off, Bercarius," the guard said. "You're not seeing anything. Says she's your wife."

Jake's bloodshot eyes were ridiculously wide. He glanced between Lily and the guard and nodded jerkily. "Sounds about right."

The guard grunted softly and unlocked the cell, gesturing for Lily to enter. She did without a word. "If Dreth gives you any trouble, ma'am, just holler," he said, and wandered off down the hall after locking the cell behind her.

Lily gave a sigh of relief and took two steps toward him before falling to her knees on the dirty stone floor in front of the bedroll he sat on. "Oh, gods," she breathed, shuddering. "I thought for sure you were dead."

"Almost," he whispered. "You look amazing."

Lily smiled weakly. "You don't."

He looked downright disgusting, actually. In the five days since Dar'vaba had taken him from the Bruma battlefield, the stubble on his cheeks and chin had grown somewhat thickly, though it couldn't really be called a real beard yet. He clearly hadn't been allowed to bathe since then either, and he still wore the ripped, burned clothes from Oblivion. And nobody had taken care of the wounds on his chest and arms; and it looked as though he had been picking at the burns on one wrist.

"You stink," Lily mentioned.

"I know. I feel awful."

"Were you… were you actually on skooma?"

Jake hunched over on the bedroll and picked absently at his chapped lips. "About halfway here, Dar'vaba was sick of me trying to get away, and he shoved a whole bottle of skooma down my throat. Apparently he had it with him for that purpose. Bastard knew I'd get addicted like _that_." He paused to cough delicately. "I don't remember the rest of the trip to the City. I remember waking up in my old house in the waterfront, and then more skooma. Felt great," he admitted ashamedly. "Then I woke up in _here_, with people telling me that I'm the Gray Fox. And they didn't give me anymore skooma. I feel like hell."

Lily reached up and lightly brushed his hair from his face. "I tried to get Martin to help me after he gave you to Dar'vaba," she murmured. "He gave me Marian. After we read the Courier about your arrest, she got me down here, bought me clothes, did my hair and told me to pretend to be your wife so I could get a visit."

Jake frowned and shook his head. "Why? See me one last time before the Elder Council hangs me?"

"No… we're going to get you out, one way or another," she said as strongly as she could manage. "I don't know how yet, but we're going to clear your name or break you out. Whichever comes first."

"Oh. That's good, I guess. Ouch," he muttered, dropping his hands in his lap after managing to pick a scab off his lip so it started to bleed. "I don't know how you're thinking of getting me out of here."

"Me neither. But Marian and I will think of something. Maybe Ocato will take a bribe."

Jake laughed dryly. "You'd have to give him a lap dance before he'd think of letting me out."

Lily scowled at him. "A what?"

He started to laugh, but tactfully converted it into a coughing fit halfway through. "Nothing. He's probably so old he can't get it up anymore anyways."

Lily eyed him narrowly. "Right… well, I don't have the charm of an Imperial, so I can't do anything… like… that…"

"You don't even know what it is."

She couldn't think of anything to say in return, so she merely huffed and pushed a rogue lock of hair away from her forehead.

Jake grinned; she had a feeling he hadn't in days. "I could tell you," he offered, with a hint of teasing in his voice. "Want to learn?"

Lily heard Dreth cackle in his cell, and she felt her face turn instantly red. "No," she declined firmly. "We need to talk about how we're going to get you out of here," she said, dropping her voice.

"I don't know anybody that could help," he mumbled. The hilarity from before was immediately dampened. "Nobody in the guild. Breaking into the prison is suicide. And bail's got to be a tonne of money. I don't know anybody who could pay, except maybe Ocato. So yeah, give him a lap dance. Otherwise I'm rotting in here forever, or I'm done."

Lily bit her lip and looked at the floor. Rain had pummelled in through the open window, and puddles were soaking her fine blue velvet dress.

Jake reached out and touched one finger under her chin, tilting her head up to face him again. "So, you're my wife now?"

"It was Marian's idea."

"Anything else I should know about?"

Lily smiled somewhat. "I told the guard we had children. I had to make it believable."

"And did you all know that I was the Gray Fox?" he asked, smirking in a way that made her heart melt.

"No. This was a surprise to all of us."

"Hm." Jake arched his eyebrows and winced when the raw wounds on his wrist rubbed against her arm. "Me too. I don't remember being promoted up to Fox level. And he didn't even give me that goddamn cowl."

Lily lightly took his hand in hers and examined the burns. They were covered in dirt, and open sores were angry from where he had picked. "Oblivion really got the better of you, didn't it?"

"Yeah. But I kicked its ass in the end. And don't bother healing them, okay?" he said, somehow knowing she was about to try. "I think they've made it so this room is Magicka-proof. Believe me, I've tried."

"Hm, that makes life a lot more difficult if we have to break you out." Lily bit her lip and cocked her head to the side. "What's a conjugal visit?"

Jake grinned and shook his head. "You make me feel smart, Lil. Want to know what a conjugal visit is?"

"I'm curious."

Dreth snickered again.

"All right, well, I guess you're about to learn what a lap dance is too, then, because these burns make it really painful to move."


	21. Kintyra

The click of a shutting door made Lily glance up from the letter on the desk in front of her. Marian wandered into their room in the Merchants Inn, a collection of papers under one arm.

"Did you get it?" Lily asked, smiling at the huge bundle of parchment.

Marian nodded and delicately set the pile on the table in front of Lily. "It wasn't very hard. The regular woman at the Office of Imperial Commerce was ill today, and there was some man there instead, so he very readily gave me the census records." One long white finger tapped the stack of papers. "From the past twenty years."

"You're good," Lily complimented, tugging her letter out from underneath the records. "Ocato wrote back. I'm surprised he did, but here it is."

"What does it say?" Marian asked, pulling a chair up beside Lily and grabbing half of the census records.

Lily cleared her throat and recited, "'Miss Laroque, I regret to inform you that the Elder Council has not yet come upon a concise decision about the trial of Jacob Reman Bercarius the Sixth. We have more pressing matters at hand, and a trial of this magnitude requires much deliberation. I cannot explain what any of the Council favours, as it is all quite confidential, but once we have come to a decision we will be sure to inform the general public. Sincerely, High Chancellor Ocato, Master-Wizard, Knight,' blah, blah, blah," Lily finished.

"By Sheogorath, he does like big words, doesn't he?" Marian said in disbelief.

"Apparently. Point is, we have some time, if he and the Elder Council haven't even _thought _of what to do with Jake yet."

"Well, that's good news. What exactly are we looking for in the census records?"

Lily folded up the letter from Ocato and pushed it to the side. "I'm not sure. Someone who can help us get Jake out of prison. Thieves Guild members, old friends—not like I know any of their names, anyways—masters of stealth, professional sneaks… you know, that deal. Or maybe some rich old git who has a liking for blonde, green-eyed babes," Lily said blandly.

Marian didn't seem to hear the joke. "Do you know anyone in the Thieves Guild, other than Jake?"

"Methdrehel and Ongar, and Ongar's in Bruma, not the Imperial City. And I've seen the Gray Fox, but that doesn't help at all."

"Does this Methredhel know about his imprisonment, do you think?"

"Marian, the whole _province _knows about his imprisonment," Lily said dryly. "The Courier was really obvious about who Lex arrested. I wouldn't be surprised if the _real _Gray Fox knew what happened. Okay, let's get cracking." She pulled the rest of the records toward her and dragged her finger down the list of faded names. "Do you have the newer half?"

Marian paused in her reading to glance at the dates at the front and back of her list. "Ten years ago to now."

"Okay, you do. Is this in any order?"

"No."

Lily shook her head and sighed. Of course it wouldn't be alphabetical. She mentally kicked the Office of Imperial Commerce for not taking better care of their census records before starting to read.

_Raminus Polus, mage, Arcane University._

_Augusta Calidia, publican, Talos Plaza District._

_Faelian, noble, Talos Plaza District._

_Alessia Ottus, author, Temple District._

Lily paused in her reading with her finger still on the fourth name. "Alessia Ottus. This might be a shot in the dark, but…"

Marian glanced up, eyes wide and expectant.

Lily tapped the name. "Jake has a sister named Alessia. Maybe it's the same as the author. I'd never thought of it before. Oh, hey, here's Jake," she said, smiling when she flipped the page and saw '_Jacob Bercarius VI, noble, Talos Plaza District._'

"Baran told me about that Alessia Ottus woman," Marian mentioned. "She can't be Jake's sister. She's older than he is."

"Oh, damn."

"What other siblings does he have?"

"Uh… Jack, Potema and Kintyra?"

"I found a Jack Bercarius." Marian pushed the paper towards Lily. There it was: '_Jack Bercarius, noble, Temple District_.' "That's from this year.

Lily grinned and handed the sheet back. "Good. Keep looking through this year. Try to find, um, Jacob Bercarius the Fifth, any Alessia, Potema or Kintyra, or… Angelique."

"Another sister?"

"Stepmother."

"Ah."

Lily skipped a few years ahead and found Jake again. This time it read, '_Jacob Bercarius VI, unemployed, Waterfront_.'

They worked in silence for a few minutes. After a while, Marian found a quill and spare paper and began feverishly scribbling things down. Lily glanced over once and hated that Marian was gorgeous and had beautiful handwriting, though there was something inexplicably _odd _about it.

"Here," the Manic said after a while. "Alessia Avidius, noble, Talos Plaza District."

"That could be her. Write it down." Lily reached over and snagged a few of Marian's records for the year, and soon enough, she spotted another name that made her giggle suddenly. "Oh, get this. Kintyra _Lex_, noble, Talos Plaza District."

"Lex?" Marian repeated. "Like Hieronymus Lex?"

"Oh, gods, I think Jake's sister married his nemesis," Lily said in disbelief. "Write that one too. Gods, did all of his sisters marry guards? Avidius, Lex… here's to hoping Potema had some variety."

Another half hour passed before they found something else interesting.

"Potema Bercarius, noble, Talos Plaza District," Marian read aloud. "She didn't marry, it seems. Oh, and right at the bottom of the page: Jacob Bercarius the Fifth, noble, Talos Plaza District. We found his whole family. None of them left the Imperial City."

Lily grinned awkwardly at Marian. "Time to get dolled up and meet the family."

—

Kintyra Lex was the most beautiful woman Lily had ever seen.

And she had seen Marian.

Long, sleek black curls, piercing blue eyes, perfect alabaster skin, a body someone could kill for, pouty lips, a cute beauty mark under one eye—and something, despite the difference in colour, that was unmistakably like Jake. But, gods, Angelique must have been _absolutely stunning_.

"Hello," she said sweetly after the servant walked Lily and Marian into the sitting room of the huge manor in the Talos Plaza District. "I'm Kintyra Lex. Can I help you?"

Lily managed to shut her jaw so she wasn't gawking at the young woman—who had to be only a few years older than herself. "Uh… yes… I'm Lily Laroque, and this is Marian Clutumnus."

"How wonderful to meet you. Oh, please, do sit." Kintyra gestured to the plush seats nearby, and demurely seated herself, neatly tucking her long silk skirts around her legs as she did.

Lily plopped lamely onto one across from her, and Marian had a bit more grace as she seated herself beside the redhead.

"So what can I do for you, ladies?" Jake's sister asked politely.

"I… I don't know how to say this without sounding blunt and rude," Lily began slowly, wishing she had better manners. It was like being in the company of _royalty_.

"Oh, I don't mind."

"Are you married to Hieronymus Lex?" Marian asked suddenly.

Lily resisted the urge to give her friend a nasty little shock, but Kintyra merely giggled cutely. "Yes, I am. The notorious captain. I'm so proud of him for what he does. I only hope our little Acario will be as successful as him one day."

Hieronymus Lex was no ugly man, and Lily suddenly wanted to see what the child of the captain and his bride would look like.

"Ah, yes, that's actually what we came here about," Lily said, shooting Marian a glare. "We understand he made a particular arrest recently."

Kintyra flinched the slightest bit. "Oh, yes. He imprisoned the Gray Fox, leader of the Thieves Guild."

"Well, the man he arrested is a close friend of ours…"

The noblewoman caught the hint in Lily's voice, and she sighed softly. "I see. You knew who I was coming here, didn't you?"

Lily and Marian nodded.

"Yes, my husband arrested my brother. But if Jacob is part of that guild, then he should have known something would happen eventually, especially if he's the leader."

"He's not," Lily said firmly. "Believe me. I've spent a lot of time with him recently. It's false imprisonment. Nothing against your husband, of course," she added hastily, "but we only thing it's unfair of him to be in jail for something he didn't do. And we have a bit of a vendetta against the one who gave the anonymous tip."

Kintyra's sky blue eyes lit up. "You have been with him recently? How is he? Our father forbade contact with him after he left home. I haven't spoken with him since he was fourteen and I was eight."

"He's… he's been better," Lily replied truthfully. "He's surviving. Of course, he won't be for long if the Elder Council chooses to execute him for this."

Slim black eyebrows arched upwards. "And you want me to help him get out, don't you? Are you his wife?"

"Laroque," Lily said without thinking. "Not Bercarius."

Kintyra's amiable expression dampened somewhat. "Well, if you aren't married, you are definitely involved with him."

"You are so obvious," Marian remarked, smiling cheerfully at Lily.

"Oh, shut up, Marian."

"What do you expect me to do?" Kintyra asked, kindly ignoring Lily and Marian's short spat. "I have no control over our finances and can't help post bail unless I talk to Hieronymus about it—and there's no way he'll agree to letting Jacob free. There's nothing I can do but pray."

Out of curiosity, Lily quizzed, "Was your family raised to believe in the Nine Divine?"

Kintyra looked confused, but nodded anyways. "Yes. My mother and our father are quite devout, and Jack has told me before that his mother was too, from what he can remember and what Jacob told him."

Lily frowned and gave the young woman a questioning glance. "When did he go wrong, then?"

"Are you religious?"

"I was a priestess."

Kintyra nodded shortly and leaned back in her chair. "I think he stopped believing when the Nine stopped answering his prayers," she said cryptically. "Do you think he would mind if I went to visit him?"

Lily glanced at Marian, but the Manic remained emotionless. Looking back at Kintyra, Lily said, "No, I don't think he'd mind. Are you busy now? I promised him I'd come to see him every day if I could."

Flushes of pink grew on the pale alabaster cheeks. "Oh, I'd love to, but Acario…"

"Bring him," Lily suggested. "Prison is no place for a child, but if you can't find someone to watch him…"

Kintyra nodded slowly. "All right… that sounds good. Wait here a moment, would you, ladies?" She got to her feet and hurried up a set of stairs nearby.

Once she was gone, Marian said, "She seems nice."

"She does. Let's only hope the rest of his family is as sweet."

Lily knew that wouldn't be how it worked. Jake had only told her little about his father, but she knew those sadistic genes had to pass down to some of his children. Kintyra was probably the black sheep of the family, rather like Jake.

Soon, they heard footsteps and a little voice upstairs, and they turned to see Kintyra returning with a very small boy in her arms. He was about three, Lily guessed, with short dark brown hair and stunningly blue eyes. He was peering at the two strangers in interest as he snuggled close to his mother's neck and sucked on his little thumb.

He was the perfect combination of his beautiful mother and stern father.

"This is Lily Laroque and Marian Clutumnus," Kintyra said softly when she stopped at the couches. "Ladies, this is my son, Acario."

"He's adorable," Marian said delightedly. "You are very lucky."

Kintyra beamed at the compliment, and Acario whimpered and buried his face in his mother's shoulder. "Thank you. We love him so much. Shall we go, then? Hieronymus might be home soon for a break, and I don't really want him to know I went to visit the Gray Fox." She ran her hand over her son's hair and smiled warmly. "We're going to meet your uncle, baby."

The little boy leaned back a bit and frowned at his mother. "Uncle Jackie?" he asked softly.

"No, baby. Uncle Jacob. You've never met him before."

"Like Grandpa."

Lily was sure she hadn't imagined seeing Kintyra's flinch. "Yes. Like Grandpa Jacob. Let's go."

The walk from the Talos Plaza District to the Imperial Prison didn't take very long, except when Acario whined and wanted to walk, or when he whined and wanted to be carried. Kintyra, Lily and Marian all took turns holding the little boy as Kintyra talked about how she came to be married to the Watch Captain of the Imperial Legion.

"I was eighteen," she explained, handing off her son to the Manic. "My father and Hieronymus' family had been quite close through noble connections, and whatnot, and he was over at the house one day in the summer. Even though he's quite a bit older than me, my father thought it was a perfect match, and he was more than happy to let Hieronymus take me for a little trip around the country. We went to all the major cities; it took nearly a month. It was an amazing month," she reminisced happily. "But, a few months after that I found out I was pregnant, of course, and told him before I told even my sisters. He proposed, and we married in early winter. I miscarried, but we had Acario when I was twenty."

"Is he a good father?" Lily asked curiously.

"A wonderful father. He couldn't be any better at raising Acario."

"He seems like he would be very responsible at parenting," Marian mentioned distantly. She was entranced by Acario, and she was lightly poking his button nose, which made him erupt into giggles.

Kintyra smiled happily. "Oh, very responsible. It's in the job description."

Soon, they came to the prison, and Lily glanced down to make sure she looked the part of a nobleman's wife yet again. A white silk dress that was Marian's treat, though her hair was left long and simple. Kintyra was stunning, of course, and Marian looked like the regular bombshell in her blue and gold dress from the Asylums. They didn't seem like the troupe of people to be heading toward the Bastion.

The guard outside the door was the same as the previous day, and he grinned as he watched the women approach. "Hello again, Mrs Bercarius," he greeted cheerfully. "Have you come for another visit?"

Lily nodded and ignored Kintyra's confused glower. "Yes, I have. This is my friend, Marian Clutumnus, and my sister-in—"

"Kintyra Lex," the guard said respectfully. He gave a little bow to the noblewoman. "It's wonderful to see you again, ma'am."

"Thank you. Is Hieronymus around, by any chance?" Kintyra questioned nonchalantly.

The guard pondered it a moment before shaking his head. "No, he's out scouring the waterfront for any leftovers of the Thieves Guild. I heard they cleared out of the place after their leader was taken. Sorry, ma'am."

"Oh, it's quite all right. Could we please go see Jacob Bercarius?"

"Have you relation to him, ma'am?"

"I'm his sister," she said flatly.

The guard jumped as if surprised. "Oh! Of course, ma'am. Mrs Lex, Mrs Bercarius, Miss, uh, Clutumnus…" He gave Marian a drawn out look of longing. She could probably get anyone to do anything for her just by being there, Lily thought. "Come with me, then."

He held open the door for them, and waited patiently as Kintyra took Acario back and led the way into the prison tower. Lily and Marian followed, and the guard hurried forward to lead the pack after closing the door.

And once again, Lily was plunged into the mouldy depths of the dungeons.

Actually caring about the state of her new white dress, she lifted up the skirts and was cautious where she stepped in her simple white heeled slippers. Marian was doing the same, but Kintyra didn't seem to care if her fine silks got wet or dirty.

Then they came to a stop at the cell.

"He's, uh…" The guard cleared his throat and shrugged. "He'll be back soon."

"Hey!" Valen Dreth cackled nearby. "It's conjugal visit Lily!"

Lily snorted and wished she could let go of her dress so she could hide her cheeks. Marian giggled softly, but Kintyra just looked disgusted.

"Shut up, Dreth," the guard said mechanically. It sounded like something he repeated on an hourly basis.

The Dark Elf ignored him and pushed his face between the bars of his cell door. "And who're these new things, huh? And a baby?"

"None of your business, Dreth. Sorry about him."

Kintyra's stern outward composure melted as time ticked by. She began to pace and drag her long skirts in the odorous muck on the floor, and when Acario stirred restlessly in her arms, she handed him off to Lily. Finally, after a quarter of an hour, she glanced up at her companions, wringing her hands together. "What do I say to him?" she asked nervously.

"I've, uh, never been reunited with a sibling after… fifteen years, so I don't know, really," Lily replied lamely as she adjusted Acario's weight in her arms. "Sorry."

Kintyra exhaled shakily and shook her head. "All right, well… I need some air. I'll be back in a few minutes." She turned on her heel and trotted away without even asking the guard permission—but he probably didn't care, as she was the wife of Hieronymus Lex.

"Mommy?" the little boy whimpered, struggling to turn in Lily's arms and see where his mother went.

"She'll be back soon, Acario," she soothed, stroking his soft brown hair.

"Hush," Marian whispered, glancing up from the boy when voices bounced off the narrow stone corridor. They turned and waited in silence, hearing the voices come closer.

"I think Bercarius is back," the guard murmured.

"You took it a little far, you know," a hushed voice said.

"He's fine," a lower Imperial retorted.

The first man snorted. "Yeah? He's bleeding."

They came into view a moment later. Two armoured Imperial guards, holding a familiar brown-haired prisoner between them came down the hallway, glaring at each other. The guard with Lily and Marian coughed loudly, and the two stopped and looked forward.

"Oh! Hey… what's going on here?" the first asked.

"Visitors for Bercarius. What'd you do?"

"Nothing," snapped the man with the deeper voice. He marched Jake to the cell and slammed it open, practically tossing the prisoner inside. "We need to get back to our posts."

"I think that's for the best."

Once the two hurried off, the guard who had escorted them to the cell sighed heavily. "Sorry. I'll go get Mrs Lex." He shuffled away, leaving Lily, Marian and Acario alone in the corridor.

Lily immediately held out the little boy, and Marian took him without a word. The women slipped into Jake's unlocked cell to behold the sight of guard brutality.

"Lovely, eh?" Valen Dreth cooed. "He's going to have some fun new scars 'cause of them."

Lily gently touched Jake's shoulder, where blood seeped through the tattered remains of his shirt. His whole back was soaked with blood, which spread through his shirt and his pants and dripped off his arms. Very delicately, Lily peeled away his crimson-dyed shirt and gasped when she saw the many welts ripping into his back.

"Lashes," Marian said helpfully. Lily glanced up and was relieved to see that she was covering Acario's eyes. "He got whipped quite badly. Or quite well, depending if you're judging on his state or the quality of the marks."

"It's definitely bad." Lily quickly counted the wounds. Twenty. At least they weren't bent on killing him. "Jake, are you all right?"

He groaned and lifted his face off the grimy stone. "No. Was Marian holding a baby, or did I imagine that?"

"You didn't imagine it. We'll explain later, okay? Is there any water in here? I can't heal these with magic."

Jake grunted and lifted himself onto his elbows. "No water. Nothing. It's a prison cell, Lil. It's not well equipped for a medical adventure. I'll just heal naturally."

"You're pale," Marian observed.

He really was, Lily noted. Jake tried to smile and roll into a sitting position, but he groaned and gagged before moving back onto his front. "Oh, hell, I'm going to throw up," he mumbled, holding his head in his hands.

"You lost a lot of blood," Lily said, eyeing the room for something good to use as bandages. Finding nothing clean, she helped him remove his shirt and tear it into strips to lay over the wounds. Once she and Marian finished—with Acario wandering about the cell and exploring—Lily said, "That should help the bleeding, I hope. I don't really deal in non-magical healing."

A creak behind them made them look back at the door. Acario was standing near the corridor, clinging to the metal gate and swinging it back and forth.

"The door is open," Jake muttered, frowning at the little boy. "We could leave."

"We _could_, but you'd leave a trail of blood and we'd all be arrested," Lily pointed out. "Acario, come here."

The little boy immediately obeyed and trudged back up to them. It surprised Lily, but then she remembered who exactly his father was.

"Ma'am, here we go," the guard said, and Lily knew Kintyra was back.

Time for the first family reunion in fifteen years.

There was a metallic clang, and the door was locked once more.

Lily sighed and looked down at Jake. He was bent in an awkward position, staring up at the newcomer to his dirty little home. Recognition flickered in his eyes, and his jaw slowly lowered.

"Kintyra?" he croaked.

His sister stifled a sob. "Oh, Jacob. I'm so sorry! I never wanted you to leave!" If she had been trying for steady composure, she had failed horribly. "But Father said we couldn't speak to you anymore!"

Lily and Marian stood and wandered across the cell, where a ratty old wooden table and two chairs waited. They sat down and had a good view of the proceedings that was safely out of the way.

Tears streamed down Kintyra's pale face and she was shaking, but Jake seemed stunned into silence. He merely stared at her blankly.

"Uh…" He glanced at Lily, then back at his sister, and at her son. "Is, uh, that yours?" he asked stupidly.

Kintyra nodded and crouched in front of her brother. She scooped up her son and sat him on her lap, in front of Jake. The two males gawked at each other. "Jacob, this is Acario, my son," she announced through sniffles and tears. "Acario, this is Uncle Jacob."

Without taking his eyes off the three year old, Jake quizzed, "When'd you get married?"

"Five years ago."

"To?"

Kintyra choked somewhat and looked away. "Hieronymus Lex."

Jake somehow kept his cool. Maybe he was forced to by the open wounds on his back and the burns on his chest. He blinked and looked away from his sister and nephew. "I see the resemblance," he murmured.

"Oh, gods, Jacob! I'm sorry for how we treated you! I was so afraid of what Father would do if I tried to defend you…"

"Are Potema and Alessia married too?" he asked, completely changing the subject.

Kintyra nodded jerkily. "Alessia married Audens Avidius and Potema never married. Father, um… he disowned her too."

"Why?" His words seemed very carefully chosen, as if he was forcing all emotion from his voice so he sounded void and empty. It was uncomfortable to listen to.

His sister wiped her face with the back of her hand, but fresh tears came down her cheeks. "She—she rejected the Nine the same as you, and she…" Her voice broke and she cradled her face in her hands, sobbing.

Jake frowned and glanced Lily's way. "Did you use the marriage excuse again today?"

That was _completely _off topic.

"Yes."

He looked back at his sister. "She's probably so confused."

Kintyra peeked out at him from between her fingers. "I am. Are you really married?"

"No. Never have been. No kids either… that I know of. No long term friends, no house, no money, no job. There. You're caught up on my life."

She sniffled pitifully. "No job? I thought you were…"

"Gray Fox? No." He snorted disdainfully and awkwardly sat up. "Do you believe everything that pompous ass of a husband tells you?"

Acario looked genuinely hurt as he stared up at his uncle, and Kintyra gasped. "Don't speak about him that way, especially in front of his son!"

"Well, it's true. All he does is feed you lies, and you believe every fucking word."

She shook her head and stifled more tears. "You've changed."

"You think? I've been alone for the past fifteen years. I've been stalked, attacked, and nearly killed by drugs, assassins and myself. I'd like to see you stay the same after that."

Maybe the family reunion was a bad idea. Lily was learning things she never would have guessed—like the fact that he was possibly suicidal. It had never crossed her mind before, but it was definitely a possibility.

Kintyra climbed to her feet and picked up her son. "I can't do this, Jacob. I wanted to have a second chance with my brother, but I guess that can't happen."

"Jake," he corrected harshly. "Don't ever call me Jacob. I'm nothing like him."

Kintyra rapped her knuckles on the bars of the cell to summon the nearby jailor. Turning to glare at her brother with teary, bloodshot eyes, she murmured, "Is that really what you believe? Right now I could swear I am speaking with my father."

In a rustle of skirts, Kintyra Lex was gone.


	22. The Fifth

"She didn't mean that," Lily said immediately after they heard the door to the west wing shut. "She didn't mean it. She's just upset."

He shook his head in disbelief or denial—she couldn't tell which. "I spent my entire life trying to be anything but him," he whispered, "and now, within five minutes, someone I haven't seen in fifteen years can tell me that I haven't changed. I'm still like him."

Lily looked over at Marian, but the Manic seemed speechless. "No, Jake," the priestess said weakly, turning back toward the prisoner. "She was just upset, is all. She wanted to get under your skin."

"Well, it worked." He was even paler now than he was before his sister showed up, and a thin sheen of sweat shined on his forehead. "My back hurts. I feel like…" He paused a moment, then gagged and threw up in his lap.

"Oh, Akatosh," Lily murmured. She stood and grabbed an empty bucket from underneath the table and carried it over to him. "If you feel it again, use the bucket. Guard!" she called, heading up to the cell door. "We need water and some cloths!"

The jailor of the wing wandered up to the gate and peered inside. He smiled a little, but stifled it well when he saw Lily's glower. "Oh, uh, we can't just freely give those out, ma'am."

"He's vomited, and he's bleeding!" she cried, pointing feverishly at Jake, who had groaned and fallen onto his face. "He isn't well!"

The jailor merely shrugged and leered at Jake. Marian was trying to tend to him now, with the few supplies they had. "That isn't my problem. And it's about time you two leave. This is a prison, not a goddamn country club." He quickly unlocked the cell and Lily was brusquely yanked into the hallway.

"Excuse me!" she said indignantly as the jailor stomped into the prison and pulled Marian away from Jake. "That is no way to treat women!"

"Yeah? Sue me. Now get out."

Lily glowered at him, fuming, but Marian took her arm and towed her away. They could pick a fight later. For now, they had a few more siblings to meet.

—

"There's mud on your dress."

"It'll come out. Where does Potema Bercarius live?"

"Not far from our first sister's house. I wonder how she managed to get disowned too," Marian pondered softly. "Something about religion, Kintyra said, and probably something else."

Lily sighed and ran her hand over her hair. "She might tell us, she might not. It's probably something completely and utterly petty, just like the reasons why Jake was cast out of the family. I don't think she'll be happy to see us, though. After Kintyra's reaction to Jake…"

"Alessia and Jack might be worse."

"That's true. And his father will be the worst of the bunch."

"Pray to your Akatosh we won't have to meet him," Marian suggested cheerfully. "Back to the Talos Plaza District!"

Partway back to the wealthy region of town, they caught sight of one Kintyra Lex speaking to another woman near the door to Talos Plaza. The stranger was taller than Kintyra, with blonde waves, brown eyes and a very stern, somewhat blocky face. If she hadn't been scowling, she might've been pretty, but there was something about her that was just manly.

And very, very familiar.

"Oh, Akatosh," Lily murmured, grabbing Marian's arm to stop her from walking any further. Pointing to the women, she whispered, "That might just be another sister."

"Alessia or Potema?" Marian hissed, staring openly at the women. "Who is the oldest? That woman looks older than Kintyra."

"Alessia's the oldest girl. Younger than Jake and Jack. Think that's her?"

"It could be. She is not very pretty."

Lily bit her lip and peered at the ladies. Where Kintyra was extremely feminine, Alessia was not. "She could be. She probably looks more like Papa Bercarius. That's my guess, at least."

Marian grunted and shrugged. "She does not look much like Jake."

"No, but he might favour _his _mother. Come on, let's go talk to Potema. I don't think we should bother with Alessia," she mentioned, turning a corner so they had a better look at the two sisters.

"Kintyra probably told her what happened," Marian said, leading the way through a long detour to bypass the women. "You're right; avoiding Alessia is probably for the best. What do we do after Potema?"

"Jack? Then his father and stepmother, I guess. Too bad his mother didn't live in town," Lily murmured, shaking her head. "I want to know what she's like."

"Maybe you'll meet her one day. Come on, we have to go talk to Potema."

They slunk sneakily past Kintyra and Alessia into the district of their destination and began the hunt for the youngest sister.

It wasn't hard to find her house, actually. They asked a guard and a wandering nobleman, and ended up finding the exact location of Potema Bercarius' abode.

Suddenly, as she was looking upon the door of the house, Lily felt very self-conscious about the mud on her dress.

And Marian, being the lovely person she was, immediately hopped up to the door and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

"Thank you for giving me time to prepare myself," Lily said flatly, hearing footsteps inside the house.

Marian frowned at her in confusion, but said nothing.

Then, with a swish, the door opened and there stood a woman who looked remarkably like her eldest brother. Her brown waves were a few shades darker than Jake's, but there was the same cowlick near the front that Lily recognized from him, and their eyes were identical in colour. She even had the same olive skin and friendly expression.

Lily was expecting to see someone like Kintyra or Alessia—finely dressed in the richest gowns money could buy, with jewels in her hair and imported makeup on her eyes.

But Potema Bercarius' hair was cut short, her face bare, and she wore a plain red shirt, black trousers and leather boots.

"Hello," she greeted simply.

"Potema Bercarius?" Lily asked softly.

She got a nod in return.

"I'm… I'm Lily Laroque, a friend of your brother's."

Potema gave her a narrow, wary look, her hand still on the doorknob. "Jacob or Jack?"

"Jacob."

There was a long hesitation, before, "Come in."

Potema led the way into the house, with Lily and Marian at her heels. The furnishings weren't as fancy as those in Kintyra's home, but they still said the woman of the house was wealthy. The two were brought into a simple living room, and sat when Potema waved at a couch across a coffee table.

"Well? What do you want?"

Simple, to the point.

"Help," Lily replied. If Potema could be straightforward, so could she. "I'm sure you know that Jake's in prison."

"Yeah. It's Jake now, huh?"

Lily nodded and gave the young woman a long look. Potema's expression, while amiable, was suspicious and careful, and she looked almost afraid to have these strangers in her house. "Well," Lily said, "he needs help. The Elder Council is either going to kill him or keep him in the prison for life, and I don't want either. If my friend Marian and I can't get enough money to bail him out, we're going to find another way. We don't want to have to do that, so if you can offer anything…"

Potema's frown softened and she curled the corner of her lip up in the exact way Jake did. "Sorry bastard got himself into more than he can handle, as usual," she murmured, shaking her head. "Just like when he left home."

"What, um, what happened with that?" Lily asked curiously. "He's only told me the bare basics, like he was unhappy with his father and was disowned when he was fourteen."

"Yeah, that's the gist of it. He did things a kid does—drink, sneak out, make friends with the bad crowd. Our father didn't like that, so he punished him. Our father's a bit of a dick," Potema said blandly. "He used to beat the shit out of Jake and Jack. Our mother wouldn't let him touch me or Kintyra or Alessia though."

"What sent your father over the edge, though?"

Potema scowled and shook her head. "Religion. We were all raised to believe and serve the Nine. Jake was no exception. But when he prayed for our father to stop hurting him and the abuse only continued, he had enough and left. Well, our father helped him leave," she added poisonously. "His name hasn't been so much as _mentioned _since he was kicked out. Not even now."

"You sound bitter," Marian pointed out, rather obviously.

Lily rolled her eyes at the Manic, but Potema didn't seem to take offense. "Yeah? There's a reason for everything. I was disowned, just like Jake."

She didn't want to press it, but… curiosity won, and Lily wondered, "Why?"

"I stopped believing. Same reason as my brother. And my lifestyle wasn't accepted by my father, so I'm no longer part of the family too."

"Lifestyle?"

"Women aren't adventurers," Potema muttered. "Women don't explore caves and ruins and forts. Women shouldn't be 'promiscuous,' especially if on occasion their partners are also women. Women shouldn't dress up as men to be accepted as an explorer. _Women_ should just sit at home demurely, cook, clean and fuck their husbands."

Lily glanced at Marian, and the two kept their mouths shut.

"Let me tell you something, Lily, was it?" Potema ran her hand through her hair as if she was frustrated. "I might be able to help. Might. I got some money from exploring."

Lily jumped in surprise. Hadn't Jake done the same thing? His sister, though, appeared to have been much more successful than he was.

"I can pitch in something," Potema continued. She hadn't seen Lily's jerk. "Who've you seen about this?"

"Kintyra."

"That's it? Don't bother with Alessia or Jack," she advised. "They won't do shit for him. Jack was always bitter that Jake was the oldest and favoured before he left. And Alessia was too, and she was always arrogant that she was the oldest of the new marriage. They never liked him. Kintyra liked him fine, though."

Lily shook her head. "She seemed hopeful, until she wanted to see him and we brought her to the prison. He didn't react well to seeing her again, and she won't help us."

"I don't want to see him," Potema said immediately. "I don't care what he's become since he left. I don't care what he's done. I don't want to see him."

Marian leaned forward and rested her arms on her knees. "But you will help us?"

The youngest Bercarius nodded stiffly. "I'll help. For all that bastard treated me like dirt, I'll still help. He wasn't the only one put through hell because of our father."

Lily wanted to grin, but she held it in.

"And don't go see our father and my mother, eh?" Potema added belatedly. "_She _might want to help—she's sweet, like Kintyra—but _he _won't let her. They won't do anything about it. His mother might, but she's a little out of the way."

"Did you—did you meet his mother?" Lily quizzed.

Potema nodded and looked down at her hands. Her fingers were scabbed around the bitten-down nails. "Just a few times. She was in the Imperial City once before he left, and once after. He looks almost exactly like her," she said with a sigh, "and he got most of his personality from her, except when he gets mad. That's all our father."

Lily frowned and glanced at Marian, who looked just as confused. If Jake looked like his mother, why did Potema look like Jake?

The woman seemed to recognize the thoughts crossing through Lily's mind, and she smiled somewhat. "Turns out our father's first wife looks a lot like him. Nothing like my mother. Our black-haired, dark father went from a brown-eyed, fair-skinned brunette to a blonde, blue-eyed bimbo."

"What happened when she visited?" Lily wondered interestedly.

"First time, she just popped in and took Jake and Jack for the day. Jake couldn't have been happier to be with her again, but Jack wasn't so excited. He's a lot like our father. Ida, she didn't say more than five words to our father. Second time, she said a lot more. Let me know when you know how much you need to get him out of prison, eh?" The tone of finality in her voice was impossible to miss.

Lily and Marian stood, and Lily said, "Of course. Thank you so much."

Potema smiled similarly to Jake and watched the Breton and the Manic for a moment. "Take care of him," she murmured, and the visit was over.

—

Another week passed in suspense. No news came from the chambers of the Elder Council regarding Jake's fate. Hieronymus Lex had evidently been unsuccessful in scaring the other thieves out of hiding, and had once again put his vendetta against the guild on hold. Jake's condition in prison was getting worse as time passed.

Potema visited Lily and Marian at the Merchants Inn twice after their initial meeting, offering words of advice and some things she knew about the Elder Council. She thought they'd vote to execute him, because they had to make an example of somebody that thieves would not be tolerated. Upon questioning, however, she wouldn't say how she knew the inner workings of the Council.

They heard nothing of Kintyra and Alessia and Jack.

It was nearing Evening Star, the final month of the year, when the post arrived at the inn and the procession followed.

"The innkeeper gave this to me," Marian said, coming into the room and waving around a stack of envelopes. "They're for you."

Lily sighed and continued staring at the ceiling. Hopeless and afraid, she had done little more than lie on her bed and do nothing for the past week and a half. She had barely eaten anything since she spoke to Potema the last time. "Who are they from?"

"Um, Baran and your father and the last isn't labelled. Do you want them?"

The priestess shook her head and shut her eyes. "Could you read them?"

"Which?"

"Baran's."

There was the rustle of parchment, and Marian delicately cleared her throat. "'Lily, I'm, for the most part, better, and Martin wants to open the door to Paradise as soon as possible. I told him to shove Paradise in his ass because right now I'm more worried about you and your thief, and now I'm in hero detention. Apparently the future emperor doesn't like being told to put things in his rear. Jauffre isn't pleased either. As soon as Marian comes near Bruma, the Blades are taking her to Cloud Ruler Temple and we're going to Paradise to get the Amulet of Kings back. So, be a good sport and keep her with you until you're done with her. Baran.'"

Lily giggled and smiled at the thought of Martin getting huffy about Baran's comments, and Marian asked, "But what if it takes a long time to finish up here? Your Jyggalag might come to this country by then."

"I won't hold you prisoner, Marian," Lily promised. "If you think going to Paradise is top priority, I won't stop you from going. I can handle this on my own."

"Hm. Can I burn this letter?"

Lily snorted and opened one eye to look at the Manic. She was staring wistfully at the small fire in the hearth. "No, Marian. Could you read the one from my father?"

"Of course. 'Dearest Lily, I've heard about what happened with the Gray Fox in the Imperial City, and it wasn't hard to make the connection between that and the man you mentioned in your last letter. I'm not one to pass judgment, but I hope you will be careful of who you associate yourself with. I do remember him from the time he was at the farm; he seemed nice, and I don't think I'll change my opinion of him until the next time we meet. That being said, come home soon, please. Marie lost the baby, and Brom is as useless as ever. We could use you. Love, Papa.'"

"Last one?"

"'Lily Laroque, your name is making itself known in all corners of Cyrodiil. In Cheydinhal particularly, your accusations, associations and antics are the talk of the town. Having the Hero of Kvatch and the Saviour of Bruma as an ally and friend must be quite the experience.'"

Marian paused, and Lily frowned. She leaned on her elbow and watched the Manic, curious.

"'You do not know me, I am aware, and I have never met you, but I can remember seeing you at the chapel when Ohtesse was sending you her hospitality during your trying times. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now I wish to meet you officially. I will be in the Imperial City within the week.'"

Lily's frown deepened. "Is that it?"

Marian nodded slowly. "It ends there."

"That is the strangest letter ever. Can I see it?" Lily took the paper when Marian handed it over, and inspection began. The yellowed parchment didn't look particularly different than what she was used to, and the slanting black ink was written in a very beautiful curvy hand. A woman wrote it, she guessed. No man would have writing that girly.

"Do you have any idea who it could be from?"

Lily shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "No…" Cheydinhal, eh? Maybe one of the Dark Brotherhood members was out to get her. Antoinetta Marie, Ocheeva, Telaendril… or maybe Lucien Lachance or Vicente Valtieri embraced the feminine side of handwriting.

"Well, I suppose you will find out within the week," Marian said cheerfully.

Lily frowned and flipped the paper over, and there, at the bottom, was some more of the tidy black scrawl. '_Expect the unexpected. I hope you are accustomed to having guests._'

"I think whoever this is sent someone to our door, Marian," Lily groaned, slapping her forehead and dropping the letter on the bed. "Get dressed. We're staying in shipshape until these unexpected guests show up."

Six hours passed before Velus Hosidius burst into their room in a flurry.

"Miss Laroque, Miss Clutumnus!" he cried breathlessly. "There are people downstairs who want to see you!"

Lily and Marian shared a knowing glance, and Lily looked herself over. She felt rather plain in the dress she wore to visit Jake the first time, but it would have to do.

Looking back up at the publican, she asked, "Who is it?"

He gawked between them. "High Chancellor Ocato and the entire Elder Council!"

Maybe it was a bad idea that she hadn't eaten in a while, for light-headedness immediately swarmed Lily, and she fainted.

—

Her eyes fluttered open to see the smiling face of a golden-skinned High Elf. "Hello," he said warmly. "Good to see you up and about."

Lily rubbed her eyes and blinked cautiously. Her vision seemed all right. So why did she feel so weak? "Uh… yes…"

The Altmer had warm brown eyes and slicked back chestnut hair, and there was an air of importance surrounding him. "Lily Laroque, is it? I'm sorry I couldn't say much in my letter when you wrote me. Things are rather hectic right now."

Lily groaned and shut her eyes. It was _High Chancellor Ocato_. "Oh," she mumbled weakly.

"Can you stand?"

"Stop babying her, Ocato," an Imperial man grunted gruffly.

"Oh, be nice for once, you old goat," a small-voiced Bosmer retorted. "Marian Clutumnus, you said your name was?"

The breathy voice of the Manic returned, "Yes."

"Help her out, would you?"

Lily felt hands on her, and she opened her eyes to see Marian pulling her up off the bed. Soon, she was standing weakly before the entire Elder Council—the entire de facto ruling body of the Empire.

"Why, um…"

"You must be very confused," Ocato said kindly. "This has to be quite the surprise, but we can't dawdle. I meant to go on my own to speak with you, but the rest of the Council insisted on coming as well."

"Oh. What seems to be the problem, sir?" Lily asked stupidly. How was one supposed to address the _high chancellor of the Empire?_

Ocato cleared his throat and pulled a small piece of parchment from the pocket of his rich robes. "We received this letter not long ago," he said, "telling us about Lily Laroque. It said another letter was sent to you, and we should find the time to make an appointment to speak. Appointments are a hassle to set up, you know," he added with a wink, "so we thought we would drop in."

"Who was that letter from, if you don't mind me asking, sir? It didn't have a name on the one I got."

The Chancellor turned and nodded to one of the councilmen behind him. He was Imperial, tall, thin, with dark olive skin, smooth features, wavy black hair and chocolate brown eyes. And even with the wealthy clothes he donned, it seemed as though he couldn't get rid of the roguish stubble on his chin.

Lily's breath caught in her throat as his eyes narrowed at her and he said, "My former wife, Ida Flaccus."

_Jake's mother heard of me and saw me in Cheydinhal and she even wrote to me and she knows he's in prison and oh Akatosh his father is part of the Elder Council of the fetching Empire!_

"You could have handled that much more tactfully, Jacob," an Argonian hissed. "Look at her face."

"Whatever," the fifth Jacob Bercarius snapped irritably. Lily cringed when she saw the scowl on his face—it was oh, too similar to one Jake wore when he was upset. "We need answers, girl. Ida isn't the only one to have heard of your actions."

"What he means to say," Ocato interrupted, "is that the entire Council has heard of what you're doing for the man imprisoned as the Gray Fox. Kintyra Lex and Alessia Avidius came to speak with us three days ago concerning you and the prisoner, and we were given mixed messages about your intent. Apparently the entire body of guards at the Imperial Prison is under the impression you are married to Jacob Bercarius the Sixth, and yet you are not. That alone is suspicious."

"Get to the point, Ocato," Jacob snarled. "You know what's going on. You know Kintyra and Alessia are my daughters. I've no doubt you went to see Potema too, for Kintyra said you would. What interest have you in saving the soul of a condemned bastard?"

Lily gawked at him for a long time before her tongue would move and she could think of something to say. "I, uh… I care about him," she replied awkwardly. "I'm not married to him, no, but I knew I wouldn't be allowed to visit him if I didn't say I was. It was deceitful, I know. And I did visit Potema. She explained how she and Jake were cast from the family."

"The silver-tongued bitch probably spread slander on my good name," Jacob growled. He took a step toward her, and she flinched. "You have no business trying to free that fool. He is a criminal, and he deserves to be punished."

Lily's throat closed up, and the entire Elder Council was oddly silent.

Then, behind Ocato, a soft voice spoke up. "But he's your _son_."

All eyes turned on Marian, but she didn't seem fazed by it.

"You should care what happens to him," she continued, giving Jacob a long stare. "He's your flesh and blood, and your eldest son. He carries your name."

"When he should not. Jack deserves it far more. He was _never _a disappointment."

"Jacob, really," a Breton woman said. "Have a bit more of a soul, would you? The girl is right. We've discussed it when you weren't around."

The Fifth gave her a dark glower, but a Dunmer man added, "We all think you're a little too hard on your son."

"You have no business telling me how to run my family," Bercarius snarled. "Hold your tongues, if you please. You, Laroque," he said, turning to Lily again. "Ida said in her letter to us that she is coming to the City. You will not meet her if you know what's good for you. She will only tell you lies."

"I'd… I'd like to hear her side," Lily stammered pitifully. "I've heard from Jake, Kintyra, Potema and now you."

"This is none of your business, girl. Stay out of it."

Jacob turned and went to push through the crowd of councilmen, but courage suddenly swelled inside her and she called, "I _am _a part of it, whether you like it or not. I'm probably the only one left in this world who cares for your son. I _have _to help him."

The middle-aged man stopped, and turned slowly to face her. He smiled dryly, darkly. "You _care _for him? So he managed to get you into bed. Let me tell you something, girl: he's a womanizer. He'll tire of you soon enough, and who will you care for then?"

Lily froze and stared at the man. He glowered at her fiercely, as if he hated her beyond all reason. "He wouldn't," she whispered. "He cares for me too."

The Fifth snorted and shook his head condescendingly. "And how would you know? Do you know how he works? Have you known him long enough? He'll leave you, girl, and he won't come crawling back. I only hope you can handle abandonment." With that, he turned and shoved past the other councilmen, leaving the room.

Lily gawked after him for some time as the other members of the Elder Council shuffled awkwardly around the room. With a disgruntled huff, she bowed hastily to Ocato and said, "Thank you for everything, sir," before storming from the room and bursting into the hallway. Her prey was already partway down the stairs leading to the taproom.

"Hey!" she shouted, stomping down the steps. The tavern of the Merchants Inn was unusually full for the evening; people had probably seen the Elder Council march into the inn and followed out of curiosity.

Bercarius stopped and turned to glare at her. "What now, girl?"

"How would _you_ know how he works?" Lily demanded hotly. She felt her face heat up as many pairs of eyes turned on her, but she tried to ignore it. "You haven't seen him in fifteen years! You were never what he needed as a father! And you're right, I haven't known him for very long, but I probably know him _much _better than _you_ do!"

"No one knows a man better than his own father," Jacob replied; his voice was a soft hiss, but she was sure everyone heard it. A fire smouldered in his dark eyes that Lily was uncomfortable to see—it was exactly like one she recognized from Jake.

"Some father you are," she whispered in return. Courage was swiftly failing her, and her arms and legs were trembling violently. "You're letting your son rot in prison for a crime he didn't commit, and you're more than ready to vote against him when his trial comes."

"He will deserve his fate when it comes, one way or another. If not for the Gray Fox, for countless other crimes against justice. If you will excuse me…" He shot her an icy smile and turned to leave.

"No. I won't excuse you. I'm not done talking to you yet."

Jacob turned and seemed to straighten, so he was even taller than her. "Stay out of my business, girl. I'm done with you. Good day."

This time, Lily let him leave. She watched in silence as he turned and strode away, slamming the door to the business behind him.

A light hand rested on her shoulder, and she glanced back to see High Chancellor Ocato standing just behind her, frowning at the door to the Merchants Inn.

"Ignore him, miss," the Altmer said softly. "I'm sure in his own way he's grieving for his son."

The hand slipped from her shoulder, and the Elder Council filed from the little establishment, with her eyes on them all the while.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Lily uttered a little gasp and dropped to her knees, unable to keep herself upright any longer. Tears prickled her eyes but refused to fall, and her pounding heart seemed to be constricting her lungs, choking the air from her.

That was it, then. She was sure of it. They didn't need a formal trial; the choice had been made in the hearts of the councilmen.

_I'm sure in his own way he's grieving for his son_.


	23. Trial adjourned! Thief missing!

_The Elder Council has put the trial of Jacob Bercarius VI on hold for the time being. No councilmen or Legion captains have put in an official word, but rumours quickly spread across the Imperial City like wildfire—the notorious criminal, imprisoned as the Gray Fox, leader of the Thieves Guild, escaped from the Imperial Prison on Evening Star 11. No one is sure of how this incredible feat was managed, but many doubt the ability of the Legionnaires assigned to guarding the dangerous felons in the Bastion._

_On Last Seed 27, yet another criminal escaped without a trace._

_With murderous, unlawful men vanishing from prison, back into civilized society, it makes one wonder—is the Imperial Legion really capable of keeping Tamriel safe?_


	24. Saint

"Once upon a time there lived an emperor," he murmured under his breath, so silently he could barely hear his own words. "This emperor was a pretty cool guy, did everything right, made his people pretty happy, and even survived being locked in another dimension by a psycho bent on some kind of weird regicide. But this emperor did _something _wrong," he whispered, pausing on the cold stone floor and grimacing at a partially decomposed body sprawled before him, "and an angry demon showed up to off him."

Pausing in his grumbled story, he looked around the frigid, sparse light of the ruins to make sure he was alone. He hadn't encountered a patrolling guard in a few minutes, but that didn't mean they weren't out there. Padding silently on bare feet, he crept up to the corpse and bent to his knees, inhaling sharply as pain stabbed his back and chest in a fiery jolt. He gingerly reached forward and pulled the blood red hood off the face. The iciness of the underground ruins must have kept the body in good condition, even though it had been lying there for a few months.

He shuddered and rummaged through the pockets of the matching red robes. Nope, nothing. This one was as picked clean as the first three he encountered.

Digging his bloody fingers into the cracks in the wall, he hoisted himself upright and took a moment to calm the waves of nausea washing over him. His back throbbed and he could feel barely healed scabs ripping and bleeding into the shredded remains of his shirt. The raw skin on his chest pulled tightly every time he moved, as if he was stretching it more than it could bear. Actually, he felt rather light-headed and feverish. Maybe he was infected.

He laughed softly and wiped fresh blood off his fingers onto his pants. Infection was a given considering where his home had been for the past few weeks.

He crept forward a few steps, keeping close to the wall and the shadows that edged the room. He was going to get caught, if only for his ragged breathing, but he tried his best to keep quiet—which was a skill of his, so it wasn't too difficult, except when his wounds flared up.

Talking helped. After double-checking to make sure there were no guards nearby, he continued speaking aloud as he slunk forward.

"Never get mixed up with politics, religion or race," he whispered to himself, edging past the corpse toward a short set of crumbling stairs. "Touchy subjects."

That made him think of a certain fiery priestess, and he chuckled softly. Next time he saw her, he should just straight up tell her that Akatosh didn't exist.

He cringed and suddenly felt his breath come short. _If _he ever saw her again…

Crawling gingerly down the stairs, he rubbed his sore chest and noticed a flickering orange light down a hallway up ahead, quite unlike the pale blue light of the ruins. The room was rather brightly lit compared to the rest of it, and he doubted he'd be able to climb back up the stairs in his condition.

As he glanced around to hunt down some shadows to hide in and maybe cast his one invisibility spell, he noticed the light glint off something metal only a few steps away.

A dagger.

Oh.

Convenient.

He stepped toward it as quickly as he could bear it, and plucked it off the icy stone floor. It was a little rusty, and the blade was scratched and nicked, but he couldn't be one to complain. Hearing booted footsteps approach with the firelight, he found a comfortable grip on the old leather handle, slunk up to the entrance to the hallway, and waited.

Then, standing barefoot in a growing pool of warm blood, he unbuckled the heavy Legion armour with shaky, slippery crimson fingers, hating himself for all that he had done, wishing to whatever deity would listen—wishing he could just take away his past, and give the dead soldier beneath his fingers his life back.

—

Worry settled over him like a weight on his chest, pressing down on his heart until it hurt. Mental and emotional hindrances should not cause physical ache, but he didn't know how to stop it.

Or rather, he did, but he was too afraid to do what was necessary.

A ragged voice in the bed beside him coughed once, hoarsely, before softly asking, "What's wrong?"

Martin sighed and rubbed his knuckles against his forehead to ease away a frown. Turning, he managed to smile at the young, battered man lying prone in the bed. "Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?"

Baran tried a smile, but his split, swollen lip prevented it. "You already know what's wrong with me, so that question would be really pointless."

"That's fair, I suppose." Martin's smile was a little more genuine this time, but he could never truly suppress his anxiety around Baran. Standing where he was at Baran's left, the young knight was nearly unrecognizable. The bruising was finally going down around his eye and on his cheek, but his broken nose made it impossible for him to breathe nasally; the missing left molars were painfully obvious in his open mouth.

Baran's cheek bulged briefly as his tongue fiddled absently with the gummy toothless spots. Peering up at Martin with a slight frown, he stated, "You want to know what I said when I wrote to Sister Lily."

Martin flinched and looked away, feeling the weight of guilt increase threefold. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, he murmured, "I wouldn't mind knowing."

The bedridden hero grunted and snapped, "You can—" He paused and coughed haggardly; it sounded like he was ripping up the bed sheets, not coughing. "You can shove that up your ass too," Baran said after the coughing fit subsided. "Write to her yourself and ask, coward."

Martin was too ashamed with his behaviour to say that, despite being the Hero of Kvatch and the Saviour of Bruma, Baran had no right telling the future emperor to put anything in his ass. He merely sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding Baran's newly mended leg. "I can't."

"I know. Can't you help me heal any faster?"

"I did all that I can, Baran. We would need a master healer to fix the rest up." Martin's mind shot briefly to Kvatch, its ruins and its camp, and a Redguard healer who was once one of his closest companions.

"So get me one. I'm the Hero of Kvatch and the Saviour of Bruma, Martin. I think I deserve to be healed. Do you _want _Mehrunes Dagon to pop into Cyrodiil in the middle of my healing process? No. Get me better and I can go to Paradise."

"We would need Marian for you to go into Paradise as well."

"She'll come up when it's time," the young man said confidently. He lifted a shaky hand and rubbed the back of it across his sweaty cheeks, paler than his normal light olive hue. With a heavy sigh, he dropped that hand and surveyed the other, the right one. "If you heal me faster, I'll have more time to practice with my sword before Marian gets here," he whispered. His expression was pitiful. "Since I have to be left-handed now."

Martin bit his lip and looked away from Baran's expression, to the bloodstained cloth around the boy's right hand. His thumb and two smallest fingers jutted out from the bandages, but there was little more than a rounded lump where his middle and index fingers should have been.

"You'll get better at fighting left-handed," Martin promised softly. "Until then, Marian will be your right side. And you can use spells…"

"Not very well. I'm mostly Redguard, remember?" Baran snapped irritably. "I'll be useless at the Fighters Guild now, because of this…"

"What rank are you?" the soon-to-be emperor asked curiously.

The hero's face screwed up in a scowl and he let his hand fall back onto the bed, dropping his head back onto his pillows. "Champion. I've been doing it since I was thirteen. Now…"

"Don't be so pessimistic."

"Why not? I've been maimed, Martin. I can't do anything I used to. I've got a bum leg, missing fingers, half my teeth are gone, and I've got more scars than I can count!"

"You're exaggerating," Martin murmured, too quietly for Baran to hear.

Baran sighed and shut his eyes mournfully. "You should've taken Bercarius over me. Dying would've been better than this."

Martin's tongue was thick in his mouth, and he couldn't come up with any condolences that didn't sound forced or pathetic. He watched the hero in worried silence for a moment, before lightly resting his hand on the man's chest. Leaving a short but semi-powerful healing spell in his wake, Martin stood and left the room.

As he gently shut the door behind him, he rested his forehead against the wood and whispered, "Please, Akatosh, let Lily bring Marian and Bercarius home safely."

"Martin!" Jauffre's voice came sharply from downstairs, and heavy booted stomping said that the grandmaster was on his way up.

Martin waited patiently, silently by Baran's room, watching the old Breton march toward him, a scroll clenched tightly in his armoured fist.

"Have you seen this?" Jauffre demanded without preamble.

Martin shook his head automatically, and reached for the parchment. As he took it, the grandmaster said, "Cyrus was in Bruma briefly today, and he returned with it. I thought you should know."

He turned to stone upon reading the title: _Trial Adjourned – Thief Missing!_

Bercarius broke out.

Forgetting momentarily where he was, _who _he was, Martin blurted, "Oh, _shit_."

—

"Twenty-seventh of Last Seed. Wasn't that Baran who escaped?" Marian asked, eyeing the broadsheet handed to her by a passing Black Horse Courier vendor.

"I think so," Lily replied distractedly, wringing her hands together and glancing anxiously around the Temple District. The stood in front of the Temple of the One, waiting for something Lily thought would be an apocalypse: Ida Flaccus, ex-wife to Jacob Bercarius the Fifth and mother to Jake, was due to arrive in the Imperial City, according to the short note she had sent a day before.

"Hm. What do you think of this?" Marian waved the parchment in front of Lily's face. "Jake is gone from the prison. At least we do not have to pay to get him out now."

"Yes, but he'll be wanted in every county in Cyrodiil. He'll probably have to flee to Morrowind to get away. I don't want to have to go to the ashlands to find him, thank you."

"I doubt he would leave without letting you know where he is headed," the Manic remarked cheerfully as she folded up the thick paper and tucked it into her bosom—which garnered more than a few weird looks from passerby.

Lily shook her head and rubbed her face, groaning softly. "How will we find him?"

"Excuse me, ma'am." The low voice of an Orc distracted her, and she dropped her hands to see a tall green brute in chainmail armour standing before the two of them, smiling pleasantly through his underbite.

"Uh, hello," Lily greeted weakly. She was surprised the Orc didn't reek of some horrible old meat. She cringed at the thought, and looked up at the sky, silently apologizing to Akatosh for her behaviour.

"You're Lily Laroque, I'm hoping," the Orc said, staring fixedly at her. "If not, would you kindly point me in the right direction?"

"Yes, I am. May I ask who is—"

"I'm Gograk gro-Bol, steward of Lady Ida Flaccus. On behalf of the lady, I was… ma'am, are you all right?" he asked worriedly, his piggy eyes bulging suddenly.

"Oh, she's fine," Marian assured him. "She has been rather prone to faintness lately, from all she's been through."

Lily glowered at the Manic, grabbing her head and leaning against the cold outer wall of the Temple of the One. "And I forgot to eat again today," she mumbled, rubbing her head, which was feeling quite light from the sudden realization that Jake's mother was in the same vicinity as her. "Where is she?"

"Milady is at an inn nearby, if you would like to meet her."

Her knees felt full of liquid, and her head was throbbing. "Could you bring her here, if it isn't a problem?"

"Sure." The Orc turned and trotted away, leaving Lily and Marian standing by the temple in silence.

Or at least, silence until Marian murmured, "She is very pretty."

Lily pulled her hands away from her face to see the missing link in connecting Jake's appearance with his parents'. Her hair, while long and bedazzled, was the same colour and had the same waves, and she had the same faint dimples and the same nose as her eldest son. Ida's skin was extremely pale, opposite Jake's—though Lily already knew he got that from his father. She was tall for a woman, decked out in a long, beautiful purple silk gown, and her wealth showed in her garments and the makeup on her eyes.

"Lily Laroque," she said softly, giving a little curtsey as she came to a stop before the temple. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Giving the woman a narrow, curious eye, Lily thought back to her week spent at the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal. Many people came and went, especially during the mornings for the sermon; she could have easily spotted the woman and thought nothing of it.

"Um… hi," Lily replied stupidly.

Marian giggled softly, and the Orc steward grunted, smiling a little.

The noblewoman's crimson lips perked up into a smirk that made Lily jump at its similarity to Jake. "I can't say you seem very much like a priestess at the moment."

Lily instantly felt her cheeks flush red, and this time Ida Flaccus joined in on the giggles.

This would prove to be interesting.

Ida waved a hand toward the only inn in the Temple District; the All-Saints Inn. "Gograk said you wanted to meet here, but it looks like it might snow, so should we head back to the inn?"

Lily looked up at the sky and saw she was right; the day was cloudy and overcast, and menacing grey clouds loomed in the distance, threatening a snowstorm. "Uh… okay… let's go, then."

Ida and Gograk gro-Bol led the way back to the All-Saints Inn, with Lily and Marian on their heels. Keeping a respectable distance behind the Imperial and the Orc, Marian leaned toward Lily and murmured, "You are a fool, I hope you know."

Lily choked and felt her blush deepen. "I know."

Once they arrived at the inn, the publican Willet handed them all brandy on the house, and they settled themselves down at a table in the corner.

Gograk instantly took a healthy gulp of his drink, and Ida took a more delicate sip, but Lily and Marian remained cautious—Lily, because the only time she ever really drank brandy was her first time drunk (and she didn't want to end up dancing with Jake's mother) and Marian because she didn't know what it was, and didn't trust it one bit.

"So, where shall we begin?" Ida unfolded a kerchief from gods know where and delicately patted her ruby lips. "When I saw you in Cheydinhal, when I began to hear your name everywhere, when I heard my son was in prison, when I decided to come here to meet you…"

Lily nodded jerkily. "Just… like that?"

Ida chuckled quietly and set her cup of brandy on the kerchief. "Well, after you showed up at the chapel in Cheydinhal, the whole city was talking about you, and how you had come from that abandoned house before arriving in the chapel," she explained. Her wide brown eyes glittered as she looked at Lily. "I was curious about you. Why would a supposed priestess have associations with that horrid house? So I went to the chapel once, and saw you, and asked Ohtesse about you. She told me what you said, about an Imperial called Jake. She thought it might be my Jacob. As you may clearly assume, I took an interest in you."

"Ah," Lily mumbled, burying her face in her cup.

The noblewoman made a soft noise of contentment when she took another sip. "Yes, well. After you began campaigning for Jacob's release from prison, people began to talk, and your name was carried over to Cheydinhal. You piqued my interest even more, to be sure. Though I knew it would anger my former husband if I showed up unannounced, I thought it was in my best interests to come to the capital and meet you."

Ida watched Lily as though expecting an answer. Lily merely downed a hefty gulp of brandy, gagged somewhat as it burned her throat, and felt her face heat up even more.

"In all I have heard about you," Ida said slowly, "nobody ever mentioned how furiously you blush."

Lily swallowed a painful, solid-feeling lump of drink and looked up at the formidable woman. "And what have you heard of me?"

"Many things. Your name has become a household thing in the past few weeks all over the country, and it has been spoken of on occasion since your misadventure with the abandoned house in Cheydinhal."

"I'm curious," Marian mentioned, finally contributing to the conversation.

Ida tapped her immaculately manicured fingernails on the worn wooden tabletop. "Well, everyone knows you are—or were—a priestess in the Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch. Everyone knows you are close acquaintances with the Hero of Kvatch and the Saviour of Bruma."

Lily cringed at hearing the second title. Nobody but some Blades, Martin, Jauffre, herself, and of course Jake and Baran knew that the Hero of Kvatch and the Saviour of Bruma were two different people. The vast majority believed Baran had saved both cities from impending doom.

"And everyone knows you must have some acquaintanceship with Jacob Bercarius the Sixth, if you are working desperately to free him from prison," Ida concluded rather sharply. "Which is the main reason I have come all the way from Cheydinhal to speak with you."

Lily was actually rather glad for the brandy. It helped melt the hard ball of ice that had grown in her stomach ever since Jake was imprisoned. And winter. Brandy also chased away the cold of winter.

"Have you spoken with Councilman Bercarius?" Lady Ida inquired, completely businesslike. If she had loved the fifth Jacob once, that affection was long gone.

"I—yes." No point in denying the obvious. "He was… I thought… how could you possibly have married him?" Lily asked before the thought crossed her mind that it might sound, well… rude.

Ida's mouth twisted. "It was an arranged marriage between noble families, dear Sister. I had little choice in the matter, and even less choice when his business trips to the Imperial City grew more and more common, and Angelique became a major part of his life. I only stayed as long as I did because of my boys."

"But you didn't take them with you when you left." _And you left when Jake was two, and Jack was one_, Lily didn't add.

"No. Jacob would have nothing have it when I threatened to leave with them. But he was a capable father—capable enough to keep them alive and healthy, at least. That is hardly the reason I came this far, though." Ida cleared her throat and folded her fingers on the table. "I read the broadsheet the Black Horse Courier published today. So Jacob escaped yesterday? I can't decide whether that complicates things or simplifies them for us."

_Us_. Lily and Marian were no longer alone.

"We will not have to pay to free him from prison," Ida continued, "but when we find where he's hiding, we will most _definitely _have to pay to clear his name of all charges."

It felt as though a very burly Orc had suddenly punched Lily in the stomach. "All—_all_ charges?" she repeated dumbly.

"All charges he has been convicted of," she replied dryly. "I don't care to think of what he _hasn't _been caught for."

The haemorrhaging in her heart was suddenly replaced by thousands of tiny colourful butterflies. Clear his name. Jake wouldn't have a price on his head. He could go to Leyawiin again without being arrested on the spot. Cheydinhal was still extremely dangerous with the Dark Brotherhood, though. Still, that could be dealt with later.

His name was very well known. People would still be untrusting of him, expecting him to stuff their belongings into his pockets in a heartbeat. But the price on his head would be _gone_.

"Oh," she said weakly.

"I am more than willing to take care of that myself," Ida murmured, watching Lily carefully. "I only ask two things in return."

"Anything," Lily promised, meaning it. Even if it meant slaving for the rest of her life to pay the woman back.

Ida held up one porcelain hand, her pointer finger jutting upward. "I want to speak with Jacob, no strings attached."

Lily nodded mechanically. She couldn't even guess how that would go over, but… they would cross that bridge later, once they found him and he was no longer a felon.

"Two: I want you to take care of him as long as he needs it. You seem a capable sort." The lady smiled warmly and set her hand down on the table. "Do we have an accord, Sister?"

It felt strange to be called 'Sister' by someone who was essentially a complete stranger. Baran called her Sister. But Baran had known her when she belonged to a chapel. It was as though the word tugged her away from her new life, back into the warmth of her past—those three years in Kvatch. With Martin. With Oleta.

Relief and grief washed over her all at once—mourning over Kvatch, desperately missing her papa and sister and Martin and Oleta and Baran and _Jake_, wondering if he survived—and Lily slumped in her chair, shutting her eyes against hot tears.

She wasn't sure she would have the strength to do it, but she somehow managed to answer.

"Yes."


	25. Lys

The snow eased the pain. The fiery rips in his back, the tender rawness of his chest—and the heavy weight inside him for killing the young soldier in the ruins beneath the City, for worrying about Lily and how she would react when she heard he broke out of the Imperial Prison.

Yes, the snow helped. The cold blanket eased physical and emotional agony better than anything he could think of.

Except maybe skooma.

With a groan, he rolled onto his back and pried open his bloodstained, tearstained eyes. The sky was flat and grey as fat snowflakes danced down to melt in the Rumare and stick to the grass around it. Was it Evening Star already? It had to be.

The snow was also good for cleansing him of blood.

It was stuck in his hair, dried and crunchy, and his hands and forearms were caked in the stuff; it was wedged under his fingernails. His back was soaked, his legs, his feet… he was stained crimson from his blood, and the blood of the soldier he murdered. And just like the pain, it wasn't entirely physical. He was responsible for the deaths of so many…

A snowflake landed on his eyelash, and he lifted an arm to wipe it away, and only ended up smearing blood onto his face. Might as well meander on down to Cheydinhal and have a chat with Lucien Lachance. Might as well join the family. He was so _good _at taking the lives of others, after all.

It was a full day since he had found that strange brick on the wall of his cell and begun his adventure through the ruins, dodging patrolling guards and inspecting the bodies of the red-robed men and women. Hadn't Baran escaped from prison? Yeah… he had for sure been in the same cell and used the same route. He had probably helped kill those people. The… what was it? The Mythic Something?

Jake shut his eyes and cringed as his healing wounds flared up at being lain upon. He rolled back onto his front, where the burns from Oblivion were all but completely healed, and buried his face in the fine layer of snow upon the ground.

He had seen numbers scratched into the wooden table in the cell. Actually, numbers were in abundance in the room, as prisoners ticked off the days. He hadn't. But etched in the table was a name, quite simply: 'Baran.' Proof-positive the hero and this thief shared the same cell once upon a time.

Where was Baran now? Cloud Ruler Temple, probably. From what he had seen of the hero before being lugged off by Dar'vaba—which was very little, to be sure—Baran had been in rough shape. Hopefully he was better. Not that Jake _liked _the guy overmuch, but they needed _someone _to save the world, didn't they?

And Baran seemed more than qualified for that.

He had Marian at his side, too, didn't he? And Lily?

Jake really wasn't needed for anything.

"Fuck," he whispered, and shakily climbed onto his hands and knees before settling into an awkward cross-legged position that didn't pain his raw chest or scabbing back. His shirt was pretty much destroyed. It had been in tatters _before _he donned the soldier's armour to nonchalantly stroll past the other guards, and the rubbing metal had only worn through the thin patches.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the pile of bloody armour behind him. He wasn't touching that ever again.

Very gingerly, he plucked the shirt off his knobbly, skinny torso and tossed it behind him, shivering against the cold. The Rumare was like slate before him, threatening and choppy in the growing wind.

Drowning seemed to him like a peaceful way to go. A lot better than hanging, or beheading, or crucifixion, or torture, or… some other horrible _Imperial _way of dying.

He had always loved the water.

Jake was on his feet, next thing he knew, standing knee-deep in the lake. It was freezing. But he was distant and uncaring of the cold. He felt as though he had floated out of his body and was watching it indifferently. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. And from here, watching the waves lap against his legs, seeing the gooseflesh rise all over his body, he could see the menacing red infection all over his back from the lashes, and the scars drenching his arms and front, the beard growing over his gaunt cheeks…

It wasn't really worth it anymore, was it?

Stiff and awkward from the cold, he lifted his arm and stared at the long, deep scars across the tender underside. Lily had never mentioned them. Had never noticed them. She only cared about the marks on his chest and back.

He blinked tiredly and ignored the pang of longing and fear at the thought of her. She would be okay. She could help fight off Mehrunes Dagon with Baran and Marian and Marty.

And she had Marty. He could make her an empress.

She deserved it.

Jake absently traced a long scar that ran from the base of his wrist down to his elbow. That hadn't done it. Excessive drinking hadn't done it. Skooma hadn't done it. Life in the streets hadn't done it.

He cast a longing glance at the lake before him.

He had always loved the water.

And it wasn't really worth it anymore, right?

—

They found his body at dawn on the thirteenth of Evening Star.

The whole city was bubbling with the news after the fishers in Weye hauled him to shore and recognized him from the broadsheets posted around town.

Ida had been in the All-Saints Inn when she heard the news, sipping tea and reading a book as the exhausted little priestess slept nearby. The pretty blonde girl and Gograk gro-Bol had left early in the morning, some time before news of his discovery reached the Imperial City, so Ida's steward could show the strange girl around town.

Now, nearing eight, Ida was seated at the table, frowning and watching the priestess mumble in her sleep and roll over agitatedly. From what rumours around the inn had told her, Jacob was being kept in Weye. For some reason, the Imperial Legion was not permitted to collect his body.

Making up her mind, she stood, smoothed out the creases in her long, simple green gown and stepped across the room to the side of the bed. The girl's long red hair was tousled across her face, her jaw was slack and relaxed, but her face was abnormally pale, with little brown freckles standing boldly out on her nose and cheeks, and her eyes were restless beneath their lids. What was she dreaming about?

Lightly resting a hand on the girl's forehead, Ida said, "Sister, wake up."

She must not have been very deep in slumber, for her crystal blue eyes opened almost immediately. The pupils dilated and shrank until they focussed on Ida's face, and the gingery brows instantly knotted into a frown. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry to wake you," Ida murmured, brushing hair off the priestess' forehead. "But I have something to tell you."

"What? What is it?" Groggy and tired, Lily still managed to sit up, and she peered owlishly at Ida, blinking in a disoriented way.

"Jacob's body was found in Lake Rumare. He is in Weye."

The girl instantly blanched and her eyelids fluttered. "H-He… what?" she gasped, panicked. Ida could see the tears rising in her eyes.

"His body was found in the lake," she repeated calmly.

"I… he… why are you so bloody fetching _okay _with this?" she snapped, turning suddenly from paleness to bright red. Ida had heard about fiery redheads, but she hadn't known the phrase to be so… astute.

Ida folded her hands in her lap and arched her eyebrows. "Jacob was always a _very _good swimmer. Nothing in me can accept that he _drowned_."

The tomato redness faded from Lily's face—somewhat. "You—you think he's alive?"

"Yes. We really have no time to get all prim and proper, so get up, brush your hair and throw something on, would you? You can't exactly wander into Weye wearing only a shift," she said, standing and pulling her long, ribbon-tied tail of brown waves over her shoulder. "I'll leave a note for Gograk and Miss Clutumnus, I think."

She quickly penned a note and left it on the table, and when she turned around she saw Lily on her feet, wrinkled and mussed from sleeping in the same clothes as the day before, with silent tears running down her cheeks.

"Ready?" Ida asked, and ushered the girl from the room.

It didn't take long to get to Weye, though a heavy snowfall during the night hampered them quite a bit when they crossed the bridge to the town. When they finally made it, with their cloaks and dresses and shoes soaked through, they were pointed to the shack belonging to Aelwin Merowald, local fisherman. According to the people at the Wawnet Inn, the Breton and his nephew from High Rock had noticed Jacob in Lake Rumare during their early morning fishing trip.

Lily was frozen as they knocked on the door to Merowald's house. Ida gave her a worried glance. The girl was unnaturally white, and her cheeks were stained with silver tears. She didn't even seem to notice the cold and snow.

The aged Breton opened the door and greeted them politely.

"Hello, ma'am," he said, seeing Ida first. "Can I help you?"

"I understand you have the body of Jacob Bercarius in your care," Ida said softly.

"I do," the fisherman agreed, gruffly this time. "What's it to you?"

"I'm his mother."

"Ah. Come on in, then." He waved them into the house, and Ida definitely noticed the wary look he gave Lily. She looked like a ghost, floating in behind Ida.

Jacob had been placed upon a ramshackle cot in the corner of the room, near the fire. There was a blue pallor to his skin and his hair was soaked where ice had no doubt melted, but he otherwise looked asleep.

Ida heard something choke behind her, and she glanced back to see the priestess covering her face with a fold of her cloak, sobbing quietly.

"Sister, step outside a moment to collect yourself," Ida suggested, voice low.

Lily immediately did as she was told, and as soon as the door was shut, she heard wretched, painful weeping.

Ida exhaled shortly and spotted Aelwin Merowald's nephew seated in the corner, watching her as he calmly puffed on a pipe. Looking back at the elderly man, she asked, "So, what happened?"

"I'll not tell anyone save you, ma'am, as you're his mother," the fisherman began, gesturing to chairs nearby. Once the two were seated, he continued, "I don't know how everyone go the notion he's dead. Someone must've seen me and Lou bring him off our boat, thinking he'd drowned. He's been out for a good long time, but he's not dead."

Ida breathed a heavy sigh of relief, even though she knew in her heart he couldn't have drowned. He was at home in the water. "So you found him when you were fishing and brought him home?"

"Yes. He hasn't woken up, but he's breathing, and I think he'll not lose any limbs from the cold. He's a trooper. Must've come close to death countless times, judging by the scars he's got."

"Infected," grunted the fisherman's nephew.

"Ah, yes, and he's got marks on his back that aren't doing so well," Aelwin added, shaking his head. "And a hell of a burn on his chest. Been through a lot, this boy."

Ida stood and wandered over to the bed. Indeed, Jacob was breathing, though raggedly and unevenly. Of course, you never knew how long that would keep up. He might be on his way out at that moment.

She perched on the side of the bed and lightly touched his hair. She hadn't seen him since… gods, how long was it? She thought he was ten the last time she had seen him, spoken to him. That was nineteen years ago.

Gods, he sure grew up.

She was sure most people would say he favoured her, but she definitely saw the fifth Jacob in there. They shared the same friendly expression, even in unconsciousness—well, her former husband never really smiled anymore, so he _once _had that friendly expression.

Very lightly, she touched a thin scar on his neck, and a bump on his nose—had he broken it?—and the jagged shortness of his brown hair. He was bare to the waist, blankets tucked around his ribs, with his arms free, and she could clearly see the scars drenching his skinny body. She could count every rib, and his arms were like twigs. The burn on his chest was large and pink, but definitely healed. It wasn't new, then. The same rubbery looking marks were around his wrists and his hands, and… the insides of his wrists and his arms were lined with scars, all deep and desperate.

It broke her heart to see, and she knew for sure that he had been found in the lake after an attempt to end his own life.

Resting her hand on his, she murmured, "I love you, Jacob," then said louder, "Could you please bring the girl in?"

The door opened and shut again a moment later, and she heard Lily's hesitant footsteps. "What… what happened?" the girl sniffled.

Ida glanced back and managed to smile at the timid little priestess. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she looked prepared to burst into hysterical sobs once more. "Come here, Sister," Ida said softly. Lily did as she was told, albeit a little reluctantly, and Ida reached up. She took the girl's hand in hers, and set it on Jacob's chest.

Nothing.

Then it rose, slowly, and fell again.

Lily's eyes lit up and a tiny smile perked at her lips.

"Oh, my… oh, Akatosh, he's not dead," she whispered, awestruck.

Ida couldn't help but smile at that. "He's not dead. I told you. Shall we wake him up?" Before Lily could give her an answer, she slapped him smartly across the cheek.

And the first thing Ida Flaccus, formerly Bercarius, heard her adult son say was a very loud, very agitated, "Holy _gods!_"

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Ida said, grinning as his eyes wrenched open and he yelped and rolled agilely onto his stomach, displaying some rather infected whip marks on his back.

Lily giggled wetly, and snorted as she stifled a sob. "Oh, Jake," she murmured, helping him move onto his side and lightly caressing the curly beard on his cheeks. "I thought you were dead."

He grimaced horribly, paled further, and croaked, "I'm not? Hell, I suck at suicide," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and floundering in the sheets for a moment before managing to sit up. His foggy, sleepy eyes turned to Ida, and he frowned. "Mum?"

"Jacob. Or should I say Jake?"

He stared at her a moment longer before shakily grabbing Lily's hand and squeezing it so hard his knuckles turned white. "Lil, is she sitting beside me?" he whispered, giving the priestess a worried look.

Lily nodded and squeezed his hand in return; gods, he must be crushing her fingers. "You aren't imagining it, Jake. She's here. And she's going to help clear your name."

"Oh." He looked confused for a moment longer, then he said, "Can I worry about that later? I think I've got something to deal with first."

Lily scowled at him, and Ida stifled a snicker. She knew that tone of voice very well from his father. "What could possibly be more important than—" the priestess started to demand, but she was cut off when Jacob—Jake—pulled her wearily toward him and kissed her.

"You are an awful priestess, Sister," Ida remarked when Jake released Lily and she smiled stupidly.

"I've been told," she said faintly. "Oh, Akatosh, I thought you were dead."

His lip twitched, and Ida glanced nervously at the priestess. She hadn't noticed. "Yeah, well…" he grumbled tiredly.

Ida shut her eyes and stood, striding across the room so no one could see her.

He wanted to die. The stubborn ass wanted to die so badly, and nothing was working.

"Sister, I know it's asking much of you, but…" Ida turned after wiping her dry eyes to see the two peering up at her like deer. "Could you step outside for another minute? Perhaps Misters Merowald can take you to the Wawnet Inn?" she added, looking between Aelwin and his nephew.

Lily reluctantly pried herself away from Jake's side, nodding weakly. "Of course." She and the two Bretons left silently, and Ida waited until she thought for sure they were gone before striding up to the door and firmly bolting it.

"What—" her son started to say, but he stopped when she turned and stared at him.

"I know an alchemist," she murmured, her hands on her hips. "A very good alchemist."

Jake cringed and eased himself against the wall, nearer to the fire. "Thanks, but all that's wrong with me is my back, and that I can get a healer to fix."

Ida shook her head and took two slow steps toward him. "No… how many times have you attempted suicide, Jacob?"

He didn't look at all surprised by the question, and his answer came quicker than she expected. "Eight."

She shut her eyes and folded her hands before her. "I know an alchemist," she repeated, very quietly. "He can make a potion that lets you fall asleep. He brewed it for a friend of mine some years ago. It is a painless way out."

Jake's eyes shut and he let out a gentle sigh. "What's in it?"

The noblewoman pondered it for a moment. What made up the potion again? "Primrose leaves," she breathed, envisioning the alchemist before her. A Breton older than the sun, swiftly and skilfully mixing ingredients into his mortar and pestle, explaining to her in his gravelly voice just how to make the draught. "Daedra venin. Harrada. And…" What was the last one?

His hands shook with age and arthritis, but still he held up the beautiful orange flower, like an explosion of sunset in his palms. "_Beautiful_," he had said to her, "_but deadly if you know how to use it_."

"Tiger lily nectar," she finished softly.

Jake grunted very quietly. "How ironic," he whispered, "that I could die because of a lily."

"I think," she dared to voice, "that you will no matter what you choose."

He merely watched her like a kicked puppy—desperate, pained, and pleading.

Ida exhaled heavily and stared into the fire to distract her from what she was about to say.

"Worrying for someone other than yourself has taken its toll on you, Jacob. Your life is difficult enough without someone else having to occupy your mind. The stress will wear you out until you try to take your own life again, until your hardships catch up with you. You will die because of a lily, whether it is a nectar or a priestess."

He was extremely silent for a very long time.

"Come back to Cheydinhal with me," Ida urged gently. "At least until you're healthy once more. Please. I never wanted to leave you and Jack with your father, but he gave me no choice. Let me be a mother again, Jacob. Please."

Jake watched her in silence for longer than she could bear. Finally, he blinked and gave a slightly choked sigh. "You see this?" He lifted one shaky hand to touch a puckered scar just beneath the right side of his collarbone. "I left the fire in the sitting room untended for five minutes to piss, and he stabbed me with the hot poker. I was seven. And this." Now he pointed to a long white scar running over his left shoulder. "He hit me with a sword, practically unprovoked. If you wanted to be a mother, you could have stopped him."

Her throat was dry.

"And see this?" His voice was softer this time, gentler. He lightly touched a very thin line across his cheek, barely visible through his matted beard. "I cut myself shaving, and Lily healed it. When I had a hangover, she helped me. When I was addicted to skooma, barely able to say my own name, she talked me through it. And now my back's infected, I can barely see you through a fever and I ache all over—and I know she'll get me better. She always does. So maybe you're right. Maybe one day I will die with a lily. And I sure as shit hope it's Lily Laroque."

Ida nodded and wiped her damp palms on her skirts. "I see," she muttered, eyeing him in the gentle light of the fire. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, Jacob. I only hope I can be now."

He said nothing, but merely watched her, shaking very slightly—from cold or emotion, she couldn't tell.

"I got what I wanted," she continued, so quietly that her voice was little more than a whisper. "I had my chance to speak with you. And I know she will take care of you for as long as you need it. If you will excuse me, I have a matter of business to attend to." Adjusting her cloak, she turned and started to unbolt the door, but his voice stopped her.

"What is it?"

Ida glanced back at him, studying and memorizing the face of the son she barely knew. "I must clear the name of a beloved criminal. Good day."


	26. Carac Agaialor

It was the month of Morning Star when Baran began to give Lily the most _bizarre _looks.

She and Marian and Jake had returned to Cloud Ruler Temple after the latter was, for the most part, healed and the price on his head was completely and utterly removed, and with the help of the priestess, Martin had managed to get the remainder of Baran's wounds on a speedy recovery. Only days after their return, the hero and the Manic were practicing a new form of combat to accommodate Baran's missing fingers and slight limp.

Jake was a bit of a recluse, and refused to tell Lily how he escaped from prison, how he ended up in the Rumare and the fisherman's shack, and what he said to his mother to make her so emotional—Lily had seen tears streaking her cheeks when she left Weye to deal with the money involving Jake. But the night they got back to the Jerall Mountains, Jake and Baran had quietly discussed something before the fire.

Without someone telling them to behave.

Which was extremely suspicious in itself, but Lily didn't press the matter.

Martin was antsy to get Baran and Marian into Paradise, but he was still kindness incarnate to Lily, and was even cordial to Jake. Everything seemed to be running rather smoothly at the Temple, despite what had happened to the Blades' main saviour.

But then 3E434 started, and Baran started to stare at Lily with the most insane expression on his scarred face.

On the third of Morning Star, Lily decided to confront him about it.

He was sparring with Caroline and Cyrus, with Marian at his right, when Lily marched out of the warmth and comfort of Cloud Ruler Temple, went straight up to him and kicked him firmly in the shin.

"Ouch! Holy gods that hurt!" he yelped, dropping his sword and crumpling to the ground just in time to miss a broad swing by Caroline, who was startled to have her sword go through air instead of meet with his weapon. "Why'd you do that, Sister?"

"Baran, I want to know why you've been scowling at me ever since we got back from the Imperial City," she said simply, hands on her hips as she glowered down at him.

"Scowling?" he repeated squeakily.

"Scowling," she confirmed.

Marian sheathed her madness sword with a shrill shriek, and glanced warily at the grey sky—it promised snow—before looking at her companions. "You stare at her with your eyes all big like a Demented grummite, your eyebrows all squished together like cozy caterpillars, and your mouth hanging open like you're trying to catch flies," she explained very colourfully. "Everyone's noticed," she added, shrugging at the stares she received at her description.

Baran awkwardly picked up his sword, instinctively using his right hand, and looked up at Lily in the exact expression Marian described—though only the gods knew what a grummite was. "There's something different about you," he said, sounding confused by his own words. "I've noticed it ever since you got back."

Lily frowned and glanced at Marian, who shrugged. "I haven't changed," she said. "I'm just about exactly the same as before."

"Come to think of it, sir," Caroline mentioned respectfully, sheathing her sword and helping Baran to his feet, "you gave Bercarius nearly the same look before Sister Lily and Emperor Martin healed him."

"They just seemed… _different_," the hero said desperately. "I don't know what it is. It seemed like a visual difference, but—"

"The new scars on him?" Cyrus suggested helpfully.

Baran immediately shook his head. "No, that wasn't it. Whatever it was went away after he was healed for good, though. He looks normal again. Jauffre looks kind of funny, too."

Lily and Marian had only seen Jauffre briefly since they returned, but Caroline and Cyrus both glanced at each other, bewildered. "Baran, sir, Grandmaster Jauffre looks no different than before," Caroline said slowly.

"He has a head cold," added the Redguard. "But all that's made him different is a red nose from being sick."

"No, it's not his nose… I can't describe it. It's like… something _inside _has changed. I just… it's weird."

"No offence, sir," the female Blade said in a very businesslike tone, "but you're insane."

Marian suddenly jerked as though stabbed, and everyone glanced her way. With wide green eyes and a slack jaw, she quickly and awkwardly shook her head. "I—nothing," she stammered.

Lily scowled, but couldn't decide what Marian was behaving so strangely about. Had she been offended at Caroline's casual use of 'insane?' But Marian would never actually _admit _to being crazy, so how could she take offence to it? She glanced into the sky—maybe it was snowing? But no, that was clear too, though a threatening cloud hung over Bruma.

"Well… all right… I suppose if you don't _know_," she sighed, resigned. "While I'm out here in the freezing cold, though, I might as well ask what you and Jake talked about when we got back."

Baran opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and finally clamped it shut and shook his head. "I can't say, Sister. I promised. It isn't about you though, don't worry. It's just… nothing."

Lily gave Baran a narrow glance and refrained from blurting, "_Well, aren't _you_ full of mysteries today?_"

"Fine. I'm going inside. It's bloody _freezing _out here."

As she turned to march back into the Temple, Marian called, "I will come too!" and soon the Manic was at her side, red-faced and smiling from the cold.

As soon as they were inside, Lily glanced around the main hall and saw that it was completely void of life, save for them. Martin's pile of books was at his customary table, but he wasn't there. Everyone was gone.

"All right, Marian Clutumnus," Lily whispered, grabbing Marian's cold metal hand before she could walk away, "why did you freak out when Caroline and Cyrus and Baran were discussing Jauffre and whatever weird thing Baran was doing?"

Marian's pale blonde brows scrunched together. "I did not 'freak out.' I have no idea what you're talking about." She looked away from the priestess and her face immediately lit up. "Ooh, the fire is beautiful today!" she exclaimed, and clunked forward in her heavy armour. Lily watched her stride up to the hearth and plop herself directly before the huge dancing flames.

Well, Marian was going to be trapped in that for the rest of the day. Lily was officially in solitude.

With a slight sigh, she eased herself onto one of the table benches and let her eyes aimlessly wander the room. They came to rest upon the Akaviri katanas hanging from the walls. They were the swords of fallen Blades. Baurus' was up there somewhere—the newest addition.

Lily breathed another little sigh at the thought of Baurus. His death always lingered in the back of her mind—partly because the chaos of the day he died on. She hadn't known him well at all, but she had seen the pain in both Martin and Jauffre's eyes when they watched his life slip away from him—and she had been there when Baran was told of his death; she had seen the Hero of Kvatch and the so-called Saviour of Bruma break down and sob in heart-wrenching agony.

That was love, she thought. It was how her father wept when his beloved died in childbirth.

It made her wonder—how would she handle it if someone she loved died? She had been too young to remember Mallory, but what about Louis or Marie? Or Marian, or Oleta, or Baran, or Martin—or Jake?

A shiver shot through her, and she shook her head. Jake's skirmishes with death made her uncomfortable enough. But one of them actually dying?

Gods, no, she wouldn't be able to handle it. The thought was unbearable. How could she react to an actual event?

"Lily!"

She glanced over to see Martin heading toward her, a nervous look on his olive face.

"What is it?"

He strode up to her, wringing his hands together in front of his old priest robe. "I think it's time we send Marian and Baran to Paradise."

Lily blinked, surprised by his words. She had been expecting him to ask her to help heal someone. Jauffre, perhaps. "Really? Do you think they're ready? To fight together, I mean."

"I know they haven't had much practice, but time might be running short, Lily," Martin murmured. He brushed his long brown waves away from his face and stole a look back at Marian, who was leaning into the large hearth. "I don't think there would be much fire in Paradise. Mankar Camoran doubtfully has the same… sense of humour as Mehrunes Dagon."

Lily caught the mild humour in his voice and giggled quietly. "They'll do fine, Martin. Stop worrying so much. You'll…" She trailed off and he frowned at her, looking confused. Lily reached up and buried her fingers in her hair, feeling around. With a sharp pluck, she held in front of his face a long silver hair.

"You'll go grey," she finished, smirking.

Martin cringed and gingerly took the hair. "Oh, gods."

Lily shrugged and fiddled absently with the sleeve of her shirt. Now that they were away from the stuffiness of the Imperial City, she was back in soft leather boots, breeches and oversized shirts. It was liberating. "Hey, while I've got you here," she said, just as he looked about to head out and find Baran, "do you know why Jake and Baran are chummier than normal?"

Martin immediately shook his head and hooked his thumbs in the belt of his robes. "I don't know. Something must have happened. I can't imagine they actually _like _each other yet, though," he added dryly. "I've heard Baran say some very uncomplimentary things toward your man."

"Jake's not so nice either. You'd better go get them."

The heir nodded glumly and sighed. "Yes, I had better. I may need your help with opening the portal to Paradise, Lily. I'm not quite sure what will happen."

"We'll deal with that when we come to it. Get Baran." Lily slipped past Martin and strode down the centre aisle of the great hall. Marian was dangerously close to the fire, but Lily didn't bother to pull her back. When it came to flames, the Manic had a single-minded determination and stubbornness to match.

"Marian, do you have everything you need to go to Paradise?" she asked, prodding the braided crown on the woman's head.

Marian barely noticed her. "Yes," she replied distantly.

Lily looked back when the door opened, and spotted Martin leading Baran into the Temple. She frowned nervously when she noticed Baran's limp. If something should happen in Paradise, how could he run away?

Martin picked up two leather bags with straps from the floor beside his table, and he held one out to Baran. Lily heard the telltale clink of potion bottles moving around inside as the hero slung it over one shoulder. After the two men pried Marian away from the fire and she was given her own bag of supplies, the two stood with Lily in the aisle as Martin set up the items they needed.

The blood of a god, a great welkynd stone, and a great sigil stone.

Lily caught sight of Martin's face as the three reacted and _something _happened. She couldn't even interpret how he felt before a bright light filled the great hall, and suddenly there sat a portal to Mankar Camoran's Paradise.

His own little slice of Oblivion.

Martin glanced back at the trio in the aisle, blue eyes incredibly wide. "Ready to go?" he asked breathlessly.

Lily saw Baran's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and he nodded mutely. Without a sound he strode forward, followed by Marian and Lily.

The former priest and priestess slunk together, and Lily wrapped her hand in Martin's. His eyes remained on the glowering portal, but he gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze as the two warriors stood before the opening. Marian looked entranced; the giant ball in the centre was shimmering like fire. Baran merely looked terrified.

"It will close after you enter, I'm sure," Martin murmured, just loud enough for the two to hear. "You cannot return to Tamriel until your business is finished."

Baran adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword, though it was comfortably sheathed at his right hip. "Okay. So we follow the arrows until we find Mankar Camoran, get the Amulet of Kings and pop on back to Tamriel, get you on the throne and end this whole thing."

"No problems?" Lily asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

Baran offered a little smirk, but it looked uncomfortable and forced, especially with his new scars and crooked nose. "Save the world from a destructive devil? _That _I can do. Ready, Marian?"

The blonde leaned closer to the portal and flinched. "This is very cruel," Baran," she whispered, barely loud enough for Lily to catch what she was saying. "We should not go where it wants to take us."

Baran let go of his hilt to awkwardly wrap his remaining fingers around her hand. "We'll be fine," he softly assured her. "Paradise sounds like it would be beautiful."

Marian tore her eyes from the ball to peer nervously at him. "Beautiful? Do you promise?"

"I promise." Baran swallowed heavily and looked back at Lily and Martin. "Take care of each other while we're gone."

"Break a leg," Lily said, and realized suddenly that it was _not _the right thing to say.

Baran chuckled anyways and nudged Marian. "It's now or never," he said, and they stepped forward.

Lily wasn't sure how much time passed after they vanished from Cloud Ruler Temple, from Tamriel altogether, but it felt like an entire era chugged by before she or Martin even dared to breathe again.

Very slowly, she blinked and looked up at the man beside her. Martin's eyes were shut and he seemed to be praying silently under his breath.

"They'll be okay," Lily whispered, afraid to break the silence cloaking the great hall.

Martin cracked open one eye a sliver and the blue iris swivelled her way. "Oh, I know. I'm more worried about how the rest of the men in the Temple will react when they realize that their blonde bombshell has a very eligible suitor."

It took Lily a moment to force the puzzle pieces to fit. When she realized what he meant, the seriousness of their quest was shoved briefly aside, and she gave a little giggle. "Oh. That's cute."

Martin finally released her hand. Thus freed, Lily's hand began to tremble gently, and she quickly folded her arms across her chest to stop it.

"And where's your man?" he asked, doing similarly; he had to be even shakier than she was. After all, he was going to be the new emperor as soon as Baran and Marian got back from Paradise.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since this morning."

Martin led her to a nearby chair and eased her into it before sitting across from her. His eyes scanned her face, and the corner of his mouth pulled up somewhat, deepening the lines around his nose and eyes. "You look different than I remember," he murmured, reaching forward with one hand and taking hers. "You look… happier. I haven't seen you this way since…"

His voice choked off, and Lily shared the sudden brick of emotion that slammed into them.

"Kvatch," she finished for him, very quietly.

"Yes, Kvatch. You have the most beautiful glow to you," he remarked, sounding pleasantly surprised. "It matches your hair marvellously."

Lily couldn't help but smile, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. "Thanks. This is the best I've felt since Kvatch. It feels like… like everything is finally going right."

Martin nodded and lightly ran his thumb over her knuckles. "I feel that way too. Even though I'm terrified to become the new emperor, I'm so relieved I'll have you by my side, with nothing between us." It was a statement, but one eyebrow rose in question.

Lily smiled humourlessly and shook her head, letting long copper waves fall over her shoulder and obscure her vision. "Martin, I think I will always love you. That will never change. But it's just, now I…" Lily let her words run dry upon looking up and seeing Martin's wide-eyed, expectant expression. "What?"

"But now you love someone else more," he said, grinning somewhat.

Lily jerked her hand away from his and knew her face was redder than a tomato. "I never said that," she snapped irritably. "Stop laughing, you ass!"

Martin nobly shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle the chuckles, and stared innocently up at her with those sparkly blue eyes.

Calmly smoothing her hair away from her face, Lily snorted and adjusted her position into something more demure. "Don't you jump to conclusions, Martin Septim," she scolded.

Removing his fist, Martin remarked, "Hey, you can hardly lecture me. I'm old enough to be your father. _And_," he continued before she could open her mouth to say more, "you don't have to say anything. I can read you like a book, Lily. Not just because I've known you since you were a snotty teenager. It's easy to tell your emotions from your face."

"I know," she pouted, leaning back on her chair and scowling. "I hate it sometimes."

Martin leaned forward so he was practically sprawled on the tabletop. "It's fine, Lily. You don't have to tell me anything. I'm going to go study how to be a proper ruler before Jauffre gets after me." He glanced toward the dining hall upon hearing an explosive sneeze. "Or worse, infects me with his illness. Go find your man, Lily, or get some rest. It'll probably be some time before Baran and Marian get back." He ruffled her hair as he stood, and Lily watched him hurry off toward his room just before Jauffre marched from the dining hall, red-nosed and grumpy.

"Have you seen Martin, Sister?" the grandmaster asked, frowning at Lily, though it looked like he was making an effort to be nice despite their strained past and his sickness.

Lily jabbed a thumb upward. "Studying."

"Hmph. Baran and Marian?" His expression softened; he was expecting the worst.

Lily was afraid the worst was the truth. "In Paradise."

—

The bone-deep throb of their pain and agony engulfed him and made his head ache. He _felt _their bodies breaking down beneath eternal torture, infected wounds and disease. Only it wasn't _feeling _in the literal sense. It was the same way he felt when he was around Sister Lily, or Jauffre, or how he had felt when Bercarius was still unwell—he just noticed their functions, the festering of the lashes on Bercarius' back, the cold clogging up Jauffre's head, or that weird sense of nausea and something foreign coming from Lily. This weird new sensation was chasing him around his head, making him feel utterly insane inside his own body.

Standing near an Ascended Immortal writhing in agony in the brush near the broken stone path because of a gaping, rotting wound on his arm, Baran had been so distracted by the man's bodily harm that he had been knocked flat by a stampeding daedroth that Marian was forced to kill on her own.

"We have to help him!" he had cried, clutching his head and cringing as the feeling worsened.

"We can do nothing. They are like the golden saints and dark seducers of the Isles," Marian had said, calmly watching the Ascended Immortal roll around on the grass, twitching and screaming. "They die. They return to life. It is a never ending cycle."

And he had let her lead him away, leaving the Immortal shrieking in pain behind them.

She was upset that he was sometimes too distracted by the Ascended Immortals to help her fight off the monsters inhabiting Paradise. But he was easily forgiven—he had promised it was beautiful, and it was. At least, it was until they reached the dark caverns filled with lava and fire. That was when they were locked up in strange bracers and marched past cages of Ascended Immortals drowning in lava, monsters and evil things and dremora torturing prisoners.

It was the strangest feeling for Baran, to simply _know _without any understanding as to why, that these people were suffering.

They reached yet another river of lava, and that was where the two came to meet someone Baran liked to think of as their saviour.

He was a High Elf, clad in the typical Mythic Dawn blood red robe and hood, but there was something about him that was different than the other people they had seen in the caves. He wasn't as drawn and hunched, and when he slunk from the shadows to greet them, he seemed almost _nice_.

"Are you the ones from Tamriel?" he asked softly, glancing nervously around after stopping them in a stone corridor. "I have heard of you. Kathutet has told the others about you, and how you fought in Kvatch."

"Who are you?" Baran demanded gruffly.

"Eldamil." The Altmer eyed them expectantly, but Baran wasn't keen on giving up his name to a stranger in Mythic Dawn regalia.

"I am Marian, this is Baran," the Manic said helpfully, nudging Baran's arm. She had somehow ended up at his left, leaving his weak right side exposed. Gods, he felt so useless having to equip a sword to the left.

"Ah, yes, that's it," Eldamil whispered. He towered over them, but Baran still felt his weakness. If it should come to a fight, this Elf would surely lose. "Look, I can help you…"

Baran snorted and rubbed his nose, still slightly sore from his adventures with Dar'vaba. Leaving Marian with Eldamil as the Altmer began to launch into an explanation of sorts, Baran wandered down the cave, deeper into the mountain. The heat was intense. He was sweating through his armour—his Daedric armour felt too heavy after being maimed, and he was back in glass—and keeping a firm grip on his sword was difficult in his awkward left hand.

Breath came short in the heat of the caves. Wiping his leather glove across his forehead to brush the sweat from his skin, he looked around, thinking this was exactly how it felt to be in Oblivion. He had rather missed it, actually. It was a bit of a disappointment that he had been unavailable to go into the Great Gate in Bruma.

"Baran," Marian called softly.

He turned and obediently trotted back. She and this Eldamil fellow were watching him almost expectantly.

"Yeah?" he asked.

So, Marian explained, with Eldamil helping out then and again.

Current problem: getting out of the caves to find Mankar Camoran.

Current—and possibly only—solution: Eldamil.

The Altmer would apparently take them through the caves, in the right direction to get to Camoran's quarters, and help keep them from harm. No doubt the dremora patrolling the caves would have a problem with these two Tamrielic folks wandering about, armed and dangerous, but with an agent of the Mythic Dawn with them…

It was foolproof, really.

Baran cast Eldamil a wary eye as Marian explained things. He didn't trust the Altmer a single bit, but even in the darkness of the caves, he could see the excitement glittering in Marian's eyes.

"All right, Eldamil," he said, "get us out of Paradise."

—

"This is it, Marty boy."

Martin froze, his hands lost in the fabric of the quilt he had been attempting to fold alone. "What is it, Bercarius?" he asked, turning to see the thief standing in the doorway. Jake was thin and gaunt, and still had the beard from prison on his cheeks. With his hair long (well, longer than Martin remembered; it still wasn't _long_) and in Cyrus' too-big borrowed clothing, he looked like a bum.

"Soon as Baran comes back, you're the emperor." He _sounded _the same, but something had definitely changed in him.

Martin sighed softly. Poor Lily. The only times Jake ever showed himself was to find food or if someone was actively searching for him. He doubted Lily had seen her man more than five times since they got back from the Imperial City.

"Yes. He and Marian will no doubt get it over with quickly." He turned his back on Bercarius to finish folding his things. There were a few piles on the bed before him: clothes, books and other miscellaneous objects, and blankets. Everything he'd need for the journey to the City, and to start his new life.

"So you go on to the big city to become the ruler. And what happens to everyone else?"

Martin paused in the midst of stacking books to look back at Jake. He was scratching absently at his beard, staring at Martin with wide brown eyes.

"Everyone else? I reckon the Blades will keep tabs on me and go about business as usual," he replied slowly. "Baran will…" He stopped, floundering for words. What would Baran do? With Mehrunes Dagon gone, the world wouldn't be locked in a crisis. "Well, I can imagine Marian will go home to the Shivering Isles," he said, with some certainty.

"Oh, sure, Marian would go home. Baran would be fucked. Out of a job. Nobody needs a hero once the deed is done. And what about Lily?"

Of course the conversation would lead to Lily, one way or another.

Martin sighed. "I don't know what Lily would do."

"She left the chapel because of you."

"Because of Dagon and the Mythic Dawn," Martin corrected.

Jake shot him a dirty look. "Because of _you_," he said again, slower this time. "They wouldn't have attacked if it wasn't for you. She left because of you. She's here because of you. She followed Baran around because of you. She did everything she has since Last Seed because of _you_. And now you're going to be crowned, and where does that leave her?"

"I… I imagine she can start a life of her own."

"Yeah? How? She's never lived on her own. She's never had to fend for herself. She lived with her dad, then in the care of the chapel, then under your orders. She wouldn't know what to do."

"What are you getting at?" Martin demanded, pushing away his meekness to stand up to the thief. He was going to be the emperor, goddamn it, he could tell this criminal who was boss!

"Give her something. Give her a place in the palace, I don't know," he said unsurely. "Just something. I think you owe her that much after all she's done."

Martin gave the man a narrow look. "What _happened _to you in there?" he demanded, before realizing what he was saying.

Jake's eyes were slits in his pale face, and Martin could nearly _feel _the heat radiating from them. It was a wonder he wasn't dead. "Enough," he shot back. "I don't care what you do, so long as you take care of her."

"And why can't _you _take care of her?" Martin asked. His voice softened; he couldn't sound gruff for this. He returned Jake's stare, though without the intensity. "She loves you. And you're going to abandon her?"

Jake flinched, but only slightly. Martin wasn't even sure if it had actually happened, or he'd imagined it. The thief exhaled heavily and finally looked away, scrubbing his hand through his messy hair.

"I… look, Marty, no offense you to, but you have no idea—"

"No idea about what? I don't know what _your _problem is, but I know Lily loves you. She wouldn't have tried so damn hard in the Imperial City to free you from prison had she not loved you. And from what I remember, and from what I've heard from Lily, and Baran, and Marian, you _used _to show affection. Now you're cold," Martin muttered. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the thief. "Lily hasn't seen you in days. What's wrong with you?"

"Baran," Jake scoffed. He scowled, glared at the floor, and suddenly whirled around and slammed his fist into the wall. Paintings shook and china rattled as the force of his punch reverberated throughout the room. Martin remained silent, merely watching as Jake panted heavily and rubbed his fist with his other hand. There was a crumbly dent in the wall where his fist connected.

"Baran," he said again, looking up at Martin. "Baran told me all about what he's seen."

Martin felt a frown form on his forehead. "What he's seen?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Look, Marty," Jake said softly, "I can't stay with her. I can't. I want to. Really, I do. But I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because… 'cause of what Baran's told me. You've seen the looks he gives her. Everyone has. And he's…" Jake trailed off with a shaky breath. His knuckles were bleeding, but he did nothing about it. "I'm the only one he's told. About what he's seen when he looks at her."

"I've heard she just looks… different, somehow," Martin piped up.

Jake nodded and scratched at his beard. "Yeah, different. But Baran didn't tell anyone but me in detail. He thinks he notices weird things about people because of when he went into the Shivering Isles."

"Spending any amount of time in the Asylums of Sheogorath would make anyone insane," Martin mused. "Are you saying…?"

"Batshit crazy," Jake grunted. "He thinks he can see what's going on inside people's bodies. That's why Jauffre looks weird, and Lily, and why I did when I was still infected."

Martin pondered it. "Marian is obsessed with fire and thinks precipitation will kill her," he murmured. "Her cousin is suicidal. Her friend is obsessed with numbers and counting. And the Hero of Kvatch can see bodily functions?"

"He _thinks _he can. He has no idea if he's right, 'cause he's not as kuckoo as Marian and still knows he _could _have a chance of insanity."

The future emperor tilted his head to the side, carefully scrutinizing Bercarius. He was a hermit now, keeping to himself… avoiding everyone save Lily, but only occasion, and Baran, who he had detested before his bout in prison.

Martin licked his lips and ventured a step closer to the thief. "Berc—Jake… what has Baran told you? Is it why you're keeping away from Lily, and why you want to abandon her?"

Jake sighed and covered his face with his hands. His knuckles were beginning to swell and bruise, too. He probably hit a beam in the wall when he punched it. "He thinks…" His voice was muffled, and difficult to understand. "He thinks she's… y'know…" Jake peeked out between his fingers, and Martin felt a weight of something unhappy drop into his gut. "Gonna pop out a kid in a bit."

His knees weak, Martin sat on the edge of the bed. "You certainly have a way with words. Does Lily know?"

"No."

"And you're going to abandon her because she's… pregnant?"

Jake groaned and rubbed his face. "I can't support her, what do you think? I'm a criminal, I'm wanted by the Dark Brotherhood, I'm poor as fuck, and… I can't be a dad," he added. He paled somewhat at the thought, and anxiously bit his lip. "I mean, there was this time when I was in Morrowind where something came up, but… y'know, I can't go through that again."

Martin blinked, surprised. "You're already a father?"

"I think."

Martin fell silent and simply watched the man before him. No, he couldn't support a family, no way. They would only end up on the street, begging, or in prison.

"Do you love her?" Martin whispered.

Jake shut his eyes. "I don't know what love is."

Martin nodded, even though Jake couldn't see him. "I'll do what I can for her. I promise."


	27. Lord Dagon, forever reborn

Stone crumbled around them, tumbling and cracking over the bodies of the fallen Camorans. Shrieks of wind came from inside his head and whirled about as Carac Agaialor fell to pieces and Paradise collapsed. Marian was huddled close to him, whimpering as they were wrenched away from Oblivion and were sent sailing back into Nirn. Clenched tight in his left hand, was the warm, heavy weight of the Amulet of Kings.

—

Lily was in the great hall, reading _A Game At Dinner _when it happened.

Caroline burst into the Temple, flustered from excitement and cold, and practically screamed that Baran and Marian were back.

"They just came out of nowhere and collapsed on the stones together!" the Blade shouted as Jauffre and Martin marched into the hall from the library. Lily watched in stunned surprise as Caroline ran back outside, and everything fell into place.

Jauffre marched Martin down the aisle toward the door, and Lily leaped up behind them, barely keeping hold of her book. "I'm coming with you!" she said, running up behind them. The horses had been prepared each morning since Baran and Marian left, just in case they showed up during the day.

"Is Victor ready to go?" Martin asked, slowing a bit as Jauffre shoved the doors open, probably scaring the life out of everyone outside.

"I had Cyrus get him ready with your horse," Lily confirmed, looking outside. Her jaw dropped when her gaze grazed the spectacular view of Cyrodiil from Cloud Ruler Temple. "Oh, Akatosh," she whispered.

Specks of vermillion and black burst from the ground like acne all over the beautiful landscape before them. Gates to Oblivion, popping up every once and a while—and gaining speed.

"Oh, gods," Martin murmured. "The rift between Tamriel and the Deadlands—it's open! Jauffre, we have to leave _now._"

The old grandmaster followed the gaze of the heir and gasped. "Caroline, Cyrus, Amadeus, Sister, Martin, sir—everyone get to their horses! We must make haste!"

Lily ran into the stable with the rest and stuffed her book into one of her disgruntled horse's saddlebags. "Shush, it's okay, Victor," she murmured, clambering onto his back and petting his mane. Tugging on the reins, she helped him trot out of the stable to the courtyard of cloud Ruler Temple. The ten Blades, including Jauffre, escorting Martin to the Imperial City were all mounted and ready to go, as were Martin and Lily. The entire imperial party was ready.

The rest of the Blades were all gathered outside the doors of the Temple, watching and waiting. As she tried to calm her horse as he pawed anxiously against the ground, Lily spotted a familiar dark-haired figure standing at the back of the crowd, near the wall. She grinned at the sight of him and waved.

"Jake!" she called, and he gave her a little one-sided smile before nudging forward.

"Good luck with the coronation," he said, coming up beside her horse, a safe distance from Victor's hoofs.

"You aren't coming?" she asked, feeling her heart drop.

Jake shook his head. "I'm staying here. When are you going?"

Lily looked back at the stable. "As soon as Baran and Marian are ready. I'm so afraid, Jake," she said, dropping her voice and looking down at him. "Did you see all the Oblivion Gates? Baran closed most, but there's so many now. What if we don't make it in time? What if Mehrunes Dagon comes to Tamriel?"

His eyebrows rose. "Then hide. Keep on the lookout. Don't get yourself killed. Stick to Marian."

"Sister, it's time to go," Jauffre called from behind her.

Lily glanced back at the grandmaster, and saw that the first of the entourage was heading for the stairs. Looking back at Jake, she bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

He nodded and stepped back. "Be careful."

"I will," she promised, and pulled her horse toward the group. Baran and Marian were clambering onto Malatu and Orinthal, respectively, when she reached them. "How was Paradise?" she asked, pulling Victor up beside Malatu as they began the trot down the road, south to the Imperial City.

"Beautiful," Marian replied, leaning forward to peer around Baran. She was dusty and grimy, and there was a long scratch down one cheek. Blood was caked in her soft blonde hair, and Lily could see bruises all over her gloveless fingers. "Full of suffering. Death. Destruction. Pain."

"Are you all right?" Lily wondered, keeping her eyes on Marian's injuries.

"We're fine," Baran assured her. His own wounds weren't as severe, but he was breathing raspily. "My burns hurt."

"Mine as well," Marian agreed softly.

"Burns?"

"We sat in lava for a bit," Baran explained under his breath. "That Eldamil must have done something to keep us alive and keep most of the burns away, but not all."

Lily nodded. "Do you want me to take care of it?"

"Later. _Tchick_," he grunted, rubbing his hand over his horse's sleek black neck. "We need to get to the Imperial City, pronto."

Reminded, Lily asked, "Where's the Amulet of Kings?"

"Where it should be." The hero gestured with his maimed right hand toward Martin, riding just ahead of them, beside Jauffre. "I hope he's ready for this."

Lily sighed softly and steered Victor closer to her companions. The snow would make travel slow, and with the worry of Oblivion Gates forming everywhere…

"Me too," she whispered, and fell silent.

—

They reached the Imperial City in the early hours of morning, having pushed their horses nonstop after seeing Daedra pour from an Oblivion Gate jutting onto the Silver Road. There were no stars in the red-streaked midnight sky, and the world was unearthly silent.

The horses were left in Weye, under the care of the fisherman, and everyone buckled into armour and donned weapons, for ceremonial purposes—and just in case something should happen.

Martin irritated Jauffre sufficiently by insisting that he wanted the blessings of the Elder Council and High Chancellor Ocato before going to the Temple of the One to light the Dragonfires, since he wasn't a legitimate heir to the throne of the Empire. After a few minutes of hushed, awkward arguing, Jauffre gruffly told Martin to hurry it up if he really wanted to go to the White Gold Tower.

So, around two forty-five in the morning, the pack of them marched through the gates of the Imperial City, toward the palace in the centre of town.

It didn't take long for Martin and Ocato to meet and discuss, with hushed voices, Martin's responsibilities. Lily could do little more than watch and keep her eyes solely on the pair; the rest of the Elder Council was nearby, and she could feel Jacob Bercarius the Fifth's eyes boring into her the entire time they were at the tower.

Partway through Martin and Ocato's conversation, a guard sprinted toward them, gasping and panting in desperation. All words were quieted as he collapsed at the ground at the High Chancellor's feet.

"D-Daedra!" he gasped. "Daedra in the City! There are those Gates _inside _the walls!"

Lily swallowed a lump in her throat and looked at Baran. For the first time in her memory, he didn't look excited to fight the Daedra.

"There are Daedra in here?" Jauffre murmured, but the messenger didn't answer; probably didn't hear. Without another word, the Blades ploughed toward the gates, clumped around their heir, with a priestess, a hero, and a Manic behind them.

"Move," Baran whispered, unsheathing his sword and awkwardly rolling his shoulders beneath his glass armour. Nearer to the Temple District, the world seemed to be blanketed in fire. Trees and shrubs were lit, scamps prowled about, teasing and chasing birds and rats, and there, nearer to the middle of the City…

"Oh, gods," the hero murmured, "it's an Oblivion Gate! We need to get Martin inside, _now!_"

The Blades jostled about, crowding around Martin and accidentally shoving Lily and Marian out of the way. An elbow bumped into Lily's temple, knocking her back a few steps and making her eyes water.

"Ow," she moaned, holding her head. "Marian, wait."

The blonde looked back at her, grimacing softly. "Come, I have to stay with Baran, or he'll get hurt."

"I have to stay with _you_, or I'll get hurt," Lily retorted, jogging up to Marian's side. They hurried to the front of the pack, where Marian instantly fell to Baran's right side. Lily ran to the middle, just behind them, and concentrated on pulling Magicka to her fingertips. She wasn't about to be a useless burden during a time of crisis.

They led the crew past locked up houses, heading toward the Temple District and the Dragonfires. Tension built with every hard footfall against the old stone ground, and Lily's lungs felt fit to burst with every gasping breath she took.

There were no guards standing by the gates to the Temple District. One body was bent and broken by the great wooden doors; the other was gone, with only a bloody streak on the ground where it had once been.

Lily heard Jauffre mutter a soft prayer under his breath as they marched past the fallen guard.

As they neared the Temple District, a low rumble seemed to fill Lily's head and rattle through the ground. Blood red streaks shot through ominous black clouds in the night sky, shrouding the Imperial City in darkness. Daedra snarled and howled on the other side of the large stone wall.

One of the Blades cursed behind her. "Does anybody else hear that?" he groaned.

"I thought it was only me," another one remarked.

There was a shuddery sigh. "It's the Gate," Martin's voice came, soft and void of emotion. "The rip between planes. Mehrunes Dagon will be here soon. We must get to the Temple of the One."

Two Blades clunked forward to open the gates to the Temple District. As they did, one of the others in the entourage gruffly asked his companion, "And how does he know so much about the Daedric Princes?"

Lily looked back just in time to see Martin turn and stare down the Blade who had spoken. "I used to worship Sanguine," he snapped a little irritably. "If you must know. The Princes are not so difficult to figure out once you have spent half your life doing their bidding."

The Blades all fell awkwardly silent, and Martin faced the gates once again, looking peeved. He wore his heavy, extravagant armour, and the Amulet of Kings hung gracefully about his neck; a giant red gem glowing on his chest.

Catching her gaze, Martin offered Lily a little smile. She returned it as best she could, and looked back toward the gates when she heard them creak open.

The Temple District was in ruins. Daedra of all varieties charged about, chasing guards and swiping vicious, bloodstained claws. Bodies littered the crumbled, broken cobblestones. Fire rent the sky; trees burned and flames licked the stone walls, scorching anything in their path.

"Get Martin to the Temple of the One!" Jauffre roared when a daedroth took noticed of them and about-faced to lope toward them. "He needs to light the Dragonfires!"

Martin and three Blades began to wind past the destruction toward the temple in the centre of the district. Baran, Marian and Lily followed, and Lily gasped, "Will that stop Dagon?"

The heir nodded and unsheathed his sword, and the other warriors followed suit. "He killed Uriel Septim and his sons so Tamriel would be vulnerable. There must be an emperor with the Dragonfires lit, and the Amulet of Kings, to keep the veil between Tamriel and the Planes of Oblivion shut."

Lily's knees felt suddenly weak. "Thank Akatosh he missed you, then," she mumbled.

"Xivilai!" Baran shouted, awkwardly gripping his sword with his left hand. Lily noticed belatedly that he no longer used an Akaviri katana—no doubt it was too heavy for him to use one-handed. The weapon in his hand was a shortsword, elven, from the looks of it.

Everyone turned where the hero was looking, and sure enough, a huge grey monster was stalking toward them, moving its hands together to conjure a clannfear as it did.

"Protect the Emperor!" one of the Blades with them shouted; Lily thought she recognized him as Cyrus.

Baran and Marian moved forward as a fluid team, dodging around the little clannfear to go straight for the xivilai. The smaller Daedra shrieked and galloped toward the Blades and Martin, nearly ploughing into Lily. She hopped out of the way, collecting Magicka in her fingertips, and went to help Baran and Marian with the xivilai; three Blades and Martin could surely fight a clannfear alone.

Rounding on the xivilai as Baran and Marian jumped past slashes and swipes, Lily felt for the soul of a moderately powerful Daedra. Scamps and clannfear wouldn't do it, but she was terrified to try for a daedroth again.

A moment later, a heavily armoured dremora churl stood before her, watching her expectantly.

"The xivilai and the other Daedra," Lily gasped, panting from the effort of pulling a dremora from Oblivion. She had never tried one of them before. It had always been lesser Daedra—well, and that one daedroth. "Go after them!"

The churl unleashed its weapon and nodded solemnly. Turning its armoured back on her, it whipped up its weapon and leaped at the xivilai, completely unperturbed about attacking a fellow Daedra.

Relieved for the moment that Baran and Marian had some help, even if it was only a churl, she looked around to see what else was going on. Martin and the three Blades had taken quick care of the clannfear and were all attacking a daedroth lumbering toward them, claws bared. The hero and his trusty sidekick were finishing off the xivilai; the churl was fighting another clannfear it summoned.

Nearer to the Temple, a storm atronach suddenly came into view and caught sight of them. In a whirl of wind and stone, it whipped toward them like a rocky tornado filled with lightning.

What was good against storm atronachs? Hell if she knew. Lily felt a fiery destructive spell heat up her fingertips, and before the atronach could come any closer, she threw a small, but hot, ball of fire at the stone man. It roared as the fire hit it, but seemed to do little damage.

Damn, what was good against storm atronachs?

Lily tried another fireball, then a more powerful wave of frost. Feeling drained and weak, she smiled triumphantly when the atronach staggered and a few stones dropped to the ground. It was severely weakened, at least. Before it could lurch forward and attack, however, the dremora churl lunged at it and struck it down.

Rubbing sweat from her forehead, Lily looked back at her companions. The xivilai and daedroth had been taken care of, and Baran and Marian were once again leading the way to the Temple of the One. Martin limped slightly, but seemed otherwise unhurt. She couldn't see how the Blades were doing; they were clumped anonymously around the heir, blades drawn protectively.

Baran waved his sword about, unknowingly flinging droplets of dark blood as he did. "Temple of the One," he said tiredly. He and Marian hadn't even had a break between Paradise and travelling to the Imperial City to fight Daedra. "We have to get this done _now_."

The pack of them jogged tiredly toward the Temple in the centre of the district. Lily, least fatigued by warfare because of her lack of tangible weapons, led the group around the broken cobbles and burning trees, toward the door to the Temple of the One. They met only a few clannfear and scamps along the way, which seemed to bother Baran greatly.

They rounded the curve toward the entrance to the Temple, and Lily was about to duck to let a Blade with a bow take care of a scamp up ahead, when something caught her eye.

He was massive, taller than some of the nearby buildings. He towered above the Temple of the One. Four arms jutted from his powerfully muscular torso, and in one he gripped a giant axe. The flesh stretched taut over his tensed muscles was blood red, perfectly suiting the Prince of Destruction, ruler of the Deadlands of Oblivion.

"Who is _that?_" Marian asked, almost sounding indignant.

"Mehrunes Dagon," Martin breathed. Lily could see the terror in his eyes when she finally tore her gaze from the giant red menace before them. Her own knees felt weak, and she was awed that she was still standing on her own.

A Daedric Prince.

Right there.

Not twenty feet ahead of her.

_Destroying buildings like they were weeds._

"We must get inside!" Martin shouted. Lily felt his hand grab her elbow, and he began tugging her toward the door to the Temple, closer to Dagon and his wildly swinging axe.

Marian frowned at the Prince and remarked, "Hm, he's not nearly as impressive as my lord Sheogor—"

A spider daedra leaped, seemingly out of nowhere, and tackled two of the Blades to the ground, cutting off Marian with a loud shriek. The third unsheathed his sword and prepared to fight it off, though he was visibly trembling.

"Oh, Akatosh," Lily whispered, and pulled away from Martin—or tried to. While shaky, his grip was tight on her arm.

"Go!" Cyrus shouted, pinned beneath the swollen abdomen of the spider. He grunted and struggled to free himself as his companion hacked away at her spindly legs. "Get into the Temple, sir!"

Martin hesitated, with Lily huddled close to his side.

"Baran!" the other Blade beneath the spider daedra roared. "Marian! Take him _now!_"

Marian trotted, unperturbed save for exhaustion, into the Temple of the One, behaving as though a raging lunatic _wasn't _determined to level the Imperial City. She barely even noticed the fires burning throughout the district—perhaps she was gaining control over her obsession?

Martin didn't move, still standing with Lily, staring at the three Blades valiantly defend themselves against the snarling spider daedra. After a moments' hesitation, Baran slammed his weight into Martin's side, shoving him toward the Temple.

"Hey!" Martin squawked, but his protests were shut up by an evil glare.

Baran gave the heir a hard look. "He's immortal, right? You should know, with Sanguine and all."

Martin pursed his lips, but didn't act on the taunt. "He is a Daedric god. He is immortal."

"He can only be killed by another immortal."

Lily felt her heart skip a beat. They couldn't kill him and send him back to Oblivion.

Martin and Baran both glanced toward Martin's chest. Martin bit his lip, hesitated, and looked back at the spider daedra.

Baran grunted and punched Martin in the shoulder, hard enough to make the emperor flinch. "Get into that fucking Temple, before I force you to! Don't you _see _the Daedric Prince across the fucking street?"

Lily and Martin hurried into the Temple, with Baran bringing up the rear. She only followed obediently from shock; she couldn't ever remember hearing Baran curse like that before.

Inside, it was obscenely normal. There were no priests or visitors, and it was eerily empty, but nothing was destroyed compared to the havoc being wreaked just outside its walls. The four of them stood near the wall farthest from the door, panting with the effort and intensity of the fight.

"The Dragonfires, Martin," Baran ordered, running his gloved fingers through his long, damp hair. "They won't work now."

Martin hastily shook his head. "No. No, they won't, not now that he's already here. And you're right about the immortal thing. He cannot be killed by mortals. We can't harm him."

Marian looked between the two. Her green eyes were alight with excitement, though she was struggling to breathe heavily in her constricting Madness armour. "You can harm him. You cannot kill him. Jyggalag can be defeated by man, though never destroyed. Can we not send this Dagon off?"

"Things are different in Tamriel, Marian," Baran sighed. He looked pleadingly at Marian, then Lily, and finally his eyes rested on Martin. His brown brows drew together in a heavy frown, then realization crossed his face and his eyes grew ridiculously wide. Everyone forgot about the sounds of destruction beyond the Temple. "We can't kill him," the hero said. "We're mortal. But what if we had the blood of a god?"

"You already used the blood of Tiber Septim to go to Paradise," Lily pointed out, twisting her long hair into a tail over her shoulder. She was overheated, and she was only wearing trousers and a tunic, not armour. "Where else are we going to find the blood of a god?"

Martin's hand slowly rose, and his fingers lightly touched the smooth facets of the Amulet of Kings resting on his chest. "The blood of a god. Dragonblood. Oh, Akatosh," he gasped, grinning slightly at Lily. "I think it wasn't chance that sent me to the chapel in Kvatch. I was meant to go there."

"What do you mean?" Marian asked, looking as confused as Lily felt.

Martin unhooked the Amulet and let the heavy jewel rest in his palm. "The Amulet of Kings is imbued with the blood of the dragon god, the Father Akatosh. It's why heirs of the Septim line are called the Dragonblood. I'm part of it. I can use this."

"What do you mean?" Lily repeated desperately. She grabbed Martin's hand, covering the warmth of the Amulet.

His eyes met hers, excited and terrified at the same time. "I have to, Lily. I am the only one left able to stop Mehrunes Dagon."

His words hit her in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers gripped tighter around his hand, and he squeezed back. "Just rip my heart out, Martin," she whispered shakily. Terror welled up inside her, filled with bubbles of a pain she didn't recognize.

She was losing him. Her Martin. Her best friend.

Martin pulled his hand out of hers, gripping tight the Amulet of Kings. "Thank you, Baran," he murmured, staring fondly at the hero. "I could never have come this far without your help. And I'm so sorry I was a pain on our maiden voyage to Cloud Ruler Temple."

Baran smiled, but pain was visible behind his scars. "I thought I'd hate you because of that. You're a terrible traveller." He sniffled and the two embraced. "You're a great guy, Martin. The best emperor this Empire's ever had."

When they parted, tears brimmed in brown and blue eyes.

"And thank you, Marian," Martin added, turning to the Manic. "You helped more than I ever expected another Blade to. Not only were you an asset to the crisis, but you are the right hand of the Hero of Kvatch and the Saviour of Bruma. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Martin," Marian murmured, and they hugged as well, though only briefly. When they parted, she smiled sadly, and Martin tucked a long, loose lock of pale blonde hair into the floppy twisted braid that had fallen from her crown to the back of her neck.

Finally, he turned to Lily. She was struggling to keep her sobs under control; she was gasping and hiccupping painfully, and tears were threatening to pour from her eyes.

Sadness shone in Martin's eyes as he looked at her. His lips moved soundlessly; he struggled for something to say. Finally, he settled with a soft, "I love you, Lily." He bundled her into a tight hug, and she pressed her face against his hair, letting hot tears leak from her eyes.

Her best friend.

Something suddenly boomed above them, and everyone's eyes shot up to the roof of the Temple of the One. Loosened rocks tumbled from the stone ceiling, thudding to the floor far below. Thin, webbed lines spidered out from holes, and a loud _crack! _suddenly filled their ears. Boulders crashed to the ground as the roof of the Temple of the One was wrenched off entirely.

Mehrunes Dagon snarled down at them, and his powerful arms tossed the remnants of the roof away.

Lily glanced desperately at Martin, and he caught her gaze. She practically leaped into his arms and he squeezed her tight, for only a split second.

"I love you," he said again, releasing her and backing toward the centre of the Temple.

Choking on sobs and salty tears, she managed to call, "Yeah, well, I love you more!" before he stared up at Dagon, almost challengingly, and _smashed_ the Amulet of Kings.

Red light flashed out from the shattered gem, and before it engulfed the entire Temple, Lily could see the tears streaking like blood down Martin's cheeks.

The crimson glow turned to golden as Martin vanished beneath the massive figure of a dragon. It lit up the night sky, pushing away darkness with its intense light.

Lily stumbled back, bumping into Baran, who instinctively grabbed her shoulders.

"The avatar of Akatosh," he whispered, his breath blowing her hair.

Gooseflesh rippled up and down Lily's arms, making the downy blonde hair stand on end.

The following fight was a blur to her eyes. Light-headed with grief, she turned and pressed her face into Baran's shoulder, silent tears wetting his armour. She saw only flashes of bright golden light behind her eyelids, and heard only the roars of the dragon god and the snarls of its foe.

And then, all was silent.

Lily pried open her tearstained eyes when she felt Baran sigh heavily. Unclenching fists she hadn't even realized she'd made, she turned and rubbed the wetness from her lashes.

"It's over," Baran whispered, so softly she barely heard it.

Mehrunes Dagon was gone. And there, standing cold and still in the centre of the Altar of the One, a stone dragon stretched its wings to the midnight sky.


	28. The Fourth Era

"Sister, we have to leave."

Lily's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Baran's soft voice, and she found him bent over her, a worried expression coating his fair face. Weakness pulled at her every limb and muscle. Moving from her spot, curled on a bedroll on the floor of the All-Saints Inn, would take far too much effort to be worth it.

The inn had been fairly untouched by the havoc in the Temple District, though it still took its fair share of damage. Men and women—mostly men, as the guards tried to defend the city—who had been outside during the Daedric attack were holed up in the inn, being tended to by healers who ventured forth from their houses to help. The Blades who had survived during the fight—including Jauffre, Lily had been pleased to notice—had also set up camp inside the All-Saints, discussing the fate of the Empire with the councilmen who showed. Mainly Ocato.

And so, Lily had been lying on the floor of the All-Saints in for two days after Martin's sacrifice to Akatosh. She only got up for necessities, like food and the privy.

She sighed heavily; her bones seemed to rattle in her body every time she breathed. "I don't want to."

Baran crouched beside her and lightly rested a hand on her shoulder. "Well, _I _have to. Ocato is naming me the Champion of Cyrodiil, and I have to go the Imperial Prison to be fitted for some armour I'm being given."

"So?" She peered tiredly up at him. "I have to go with you?"

"No… I only promised Martin I would never let anything happen to you."

It took all of her energy to frown. "Why? I wasn't under his care."

Baran licked his lips anxiously. "Well, no, I guess not… but he was going to do everything in his power to take care of you anyways. And he would've been emperor; his power would've been extensive." Seeing she was still confused, he exhaled softly and sat down cross-legged beside her. "Look… you wanted to know why I looked at you funny when you came back from the Imperial City with Bercarius? I thought… I think I see things about people. Bodily things. It sounds insane, and it is, because it only started when I went to the Shivering Isles that time."

Lily lifted her head. "Bodily things?"

"Yeah." He nodded and pushed back a rogue lock of hair on his forehead. "I _saw _Jauffre's cold when he was sick. I saw Bercarius' infection. And… I saw… well, I don't see it anymore. I think my insanity comes and goes in bouts."

"Baran." Lily pushed herself up so she was leaning lopsidedly against the counter by her head. "What in Oblivion are you talking about?"

He bit his lip, then said in a whoosh, "I-thought-you-were-pregnant-but-I-don't-see-it-anymore-so-I-think-I'm-wrong."

Maybe it was her exhaustion and mental anguish, but she wasn't all that surprised. "Oh. I don't _feel _pregnant. I was just… happy."

"That might've been it. My craziness might've been making me think you were… hell, I don't know," he said in exasperation. "But whatever it was, it's gone now."

Lily tried to absorb everything she was saying, but gave up. "I'm not pregnant, Baran. But why would that have to do with you and Martin taking care of me?"

"Well… the first and only person I told was, well, Bercarius," he explained hesitantly. His left hand was absently rubbing the stumps where his fingers should have been on his right hand; Lily noticed it often now, and figured it was a nervous tick. "I told him everything I thought I was seeing. He… well, he panicked, like any man would. He was so afraid he would have to provide for you, which he can't do, what with his warrant for arrest in Leyawiin, the Dark Brotherhood and his overall poorness. I told him to go to Martin. He did. Martin told me on the ride here." Baran licked his lips again and cupped his right hand in his left. "He made Martin promise to take care of you. He didn't come here with us, because…"

Lily shut her eyes as he trailed off. "He was going to leave."

The champion sighed heavily. "Yeah. He was going to leave."

They merely sat in silence for a very long time. Lily unfocussed on the wood floor beneath her, her mind going painfully blank.

"Are you all right?" Baran asked after some time.

Lily sighed. "I want to cry, but I think I ran out of tears."

Baran awkwardly rubbed her back. Men. So bad at comforting.

Except Martin. He had been good at it.

"All you've been doing for the past two days is cry. Don't bother yourself about Bercarius, Sister."

"But I want to bother myself about Bercarius," she mumbled. "But it's his choice. He doesn't seem like the fatherly type, and if he chooses to believe I'm pregnant, then there's nothing I can do about it. But I'm not pregnant."

"How do you know?"

Lily mustered up the energy to shoot him a dirty look, and he looked away, abashed. "Trust me, Baran, I'm not pregnant."

He innocently held up his hands. "Fine, you aren't pregnant. Point is, I promised Martin that I'd look out for you, no matter what. If you'll accept my help, that is."

She blinked tiredly; it seemed to take effort to do that now, too. "So you're being named the Champion of Cyrodiil. What are you doing after that?"

This garnered a shrug. "I don't know. I'll go where the wind takes me, I guess."

Lily shook her head. There was still crumbles of dust in her hair from when Dagon wrenched the roof off the Temple of the One. "I'm done travelling nomadically. I want to settle down somewhere and actually have a life. I'll just… join a chapel…"

Baran grunted; it was almost a laugh. "I don't think that's a good idea after your last time with a chapel, Sister."

Lily's lips perked up against her will.

His jaw dropped. "Holy—you're smiling!"

"You just…" She chuckled breathily. "You're getting after me for wanting to be a priestess again, yet you still call me 'Sister.'"

Baran grinned, and Lily wanted to sigh sadly at the sight of his missing teeth. Dar'vaba really got the better of him.

Hm. In all the insanity of the past week, she had completely forgotten about that stupid housecat.

"It's hard to break habits, I guess," the hero admitted. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

He inhaled sharply, as though he had something to say. "I—I… never mind. Time to man up, I think."

Lily scowled up at him. "What are you talking about?"

Baran made a childish popping sound with his lips that made Lily snort, almost a laugh. "You'll see. Hopefully. I'm going to find Marian and see if she'll come with me to the Imperial Prison. I'm a little nervous to go there again after I broke out," he joked as he stood.

Lily managed another smile. "Have fun. Let me see once you're all suited up."

"I probably won't get it for another few weeks, but I promise you'll get a fashion show." Baran flicked his fingers at her in a wave. "I'll be back sometime later, Sister. Try to cheer up a little, hm?"

"No promises, Baran," she called after him. Lily watched silently as he wound past the crowd in the All-Saints Inn and exited the cramped building. As soon as he was gone, she sighed heavily and once again curled up on the bedroll. She wanted rest, but she was too exhausted to sleep. She wanted to weep, but her body had dried up. She was a shell, merely existing because she had to.

Gods, she wanted Martin.

No, she couldn't think of him. Not now. It was too soon. His loss was still fresh in her mind, and thoughts of him only rubbed salt into her wounds.

Again, her mind was void.

—

Baran had visited her around ten-thirty in the morning. It was quarter to seven before she spoke again.

Footsteps scuffed the floor in front of her face, and she opened her eyes to a vision of soft leather boots before her. Very slowly, her gaze roved upwards. Baran smiled down at her, but there was something odd about him. His hair, usually left long on his shoulders, was clubbed back in a ponytail, and actually brushed for once. His clothes had dirt and dust beat from them, and he actually looked respectable.

"You look ridiculous," Lily croaked, not moving except to speak.

He said nothing, only held out his left hand.

Lily eyed it, silent.

"Get up," Marian's voice came from the foot of the bedroll. Lily moved her head to see the Manic. For the past two days, Marian had remained haggard and grimy from Paradise and the ensuing battles, but there she stood, with her hair pulled back as usual, her alabaster skin clean, and her beautiful blue dress hugging her curves.

Lily frowned. "Why is everyone dressed up?"

This time, it was Baran who ordered her to her feet.

Reluctantly, Lily set her hand in his and let him tug her up. Light-headed from having been lying for so long, Lily clutched her forehead with a grimace.

"Are you all right?" Marian asked, lightly touching Lily's shoulder.

"I'm fine." She dropped her hand to her side and looked down at herself. She wore the same clothes from two days before; she hadn't brushed her hair; tearstains froze her cheeks. "I feel disgusting."

Baran smiled a little, and nudged her toward the door to the inn. "You're beautiful. Come on."

She stumbled, unaccustomed to walking, but he kept a firm hold on her arm. "Where are we going?" she demanded weakly. Marian brought up the rear of their silent party, and she merely smiled in her distant way rather than answer.

Outside, the entire city seemed to have volunteered to help clean up. Corpses were removed, ashes were swept up, blood was scrubbed, boulders were removed. Things looked relatively normal again, except the cold winter day made her even more tired as they trudged along, and everything looked grey and flat.

"Where are we—" she started to ask again, but stopped when she realized Baran was steering her to the one thing that wasn't being rebuilt.

"No," Lily gasped upon seeing the shattered roof of the Temple, and the dragon arching out. "No. No. No! I can't go there!" She struggled to pull her arm away, but Baran was far stronger, and his grip was firm.

"You have to," Marian said, coming up beside her.

Lily yanked at her arm and yelped when Baran's tight hold nearly pulled her elbow out of its socket. "No! Baran, please!" Tears she thought she didn't possess filled the corners of her eyes, and she desperately tried to get away. He merely held on tighter and continued marching toward the wooden door to the Temple.

Sobs began to wrack her, and muscles already sore from weeping spasmed under the effort of trying to stay calm. "No! Baran, please, no! Baran, please…" She gasped, shuddery, and let the hot tears pour down her face. "Please… please," she moaned, but her efforts were futile. They were at the door.

Lily doubled over as exhaustion and desperation took control. Words made no sense; she was barely aware that she continually repeated, "No… no…" under her breath, interspersed with shuddering sobs.

"Normally I think I'd care that you're causing a scene," Baran remarked as Marian trotted up to the door. "But I'm not allowed to be embarrassed easily now that I'm the Champion of Cyrodiil. Get a grip."

Lily gasped in an effort to get air into her lungs and bit her lip, trying to keep from weeping. Her chin trembled, trying to halt her progress.

Marian opened the door and held it. Baran towed Lily toward the Temple, and she dug her heels into the ground, determined to stay out of that unholy place.

"Goddamn it, Sister," Baran growled as she grabbed the wall and firmly planted her feet in a patch of missing cobbles. "You're as difficult as a child."

"Treat her as one," suggested Marian. Her voice was bland and far-off.

"Fine." Baran, keeping a firm hold on Lily's elbow, wrapped an arm around her waist and unceremoniously hoisted her off the ground. She shrieked involuntarily, and as soon as his other arm constricted her as well, she pummelled his shoulder with weak, shaky punches.

"Let me go! Let me go, you asshole!" she shouted. She felt the eyes of everyone nearby on her; people had flocked to the Temple of the One and the statue of the dragon ever since the battle, thinking it a place of pilgrimage, so the Temple was packed with people. And plus the hefty clean-up crew outside… had she been in a normal state of mind, she would have been mortified.

They passed through the entrance to the Temple.

Lily collapsed against him and let herself weep. "You fucking jerk," she mumbled into his shoulder. Baran said nothing, merely carried her into the Temple.

A few feet inside, he gently set her down, but she clung to his chest, trembling.

"Let go of me, Sister," he said softly. "Let go of me now, and look."

"No," she muttered wetly.

Baran sighed and grabbed her shoulders. He pried her from him and forcefully turned her around so she was facing the statue of the dragon.

At first, she thought there was nothing remarkable about it. After all, it was just an icon of the battle between Akatosh and Mehrunes Dagon, the final stage of the Daedric Invasion. But after a moment of silence, merely letting the tears fall and looking at the thing, she felt the warm hum, the pulse of life and Magicka radiating from its core.

"He's still here," Baran murmured, gently pressing his fingers into her shoulders in the way he somehow knew she liked. Martin had always done it for her, back at the chapel in Kvatch. "You might not think it, but he's here. He's part of that."

Lily bit the inside of her cheek, afraid to speak. If she opened her mouth, she might begin bawling again. Everyone in the Temple was already looking at her; she didn't want to somehow draw even more attention to herself.

Baran was right. He was there. Martin was gone to Aetherius for sacrificing himself to the power of Akatosh, but a part of him remained behind on Nirn, trapped forever inside the great stone dragon.

Her Martin. He was still there.

Lily smiled a little, trembling. Shutting her eyes, she could see him perfectly. "Yeah, well, I love you more," she whispered, and more tears slipped down her face.

"Sister." Baran's voice was very quiet. "Open your eyes."

She did as she was told, and thought for a moment nothing had changed. She stood before the statue of Akatosh, and people milled about, murmuring and staring in awe. The whole room seemed to be vibrating with movement, save for one spot, underneath one of the dragon's wings.

His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his dark trousers as he tilted his head back to look at the dragon above him. He was clean-shaven, a few nicks here and there, and his shoulders were skinny beneath his too-big white shirt. Very casually, as a pompous-looking wealthy lady squeezed past him, he slipped his hand into a bag dangling from her wrist. A second later, his hand was back in his pocket, and she continued on her way.

Lily could do little more than look at him.

"He's still here too," Baran murmured. When she didn't speak, or even move, he added, "Go talk to him. It's the whole reason he's here."

"I might fall over," she said breathlessly.

"You'll be fine."

"Why is he here?" she managed to ask.

"Jauffre reported seeing him in the waterfront yesterday, with some Wood Elf woman. He told me and Marian, and we went to find him today. He didn't think we'd still be here. Go talk to him. He's here because of you."

When she didn't respond, he gave her a little nudge, and she shuffled toward the dragon. Closer, she could feel the life of it inside her, warming her, healing her.

He glanced back at her as she approached. He looked perfect; hunched slightly, hands in his pockets, a lopsided smile on his mouth. She could even see the scar on his cheek where he cut himself shaving that one time outside Cheydinhal.

For a moment, they merely looked at each other. Lily felt as though she was swaying, and thought she would collapse at any given moment.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Hey, Lil."

"Hi, Jake."

Another bout of quiet.

"I doubt there's anything I can do or say for you to forgive me," he said, not at all awkwardly. "I was a complete ass, and you didn't even know it 'til someone told you."

She couldn't find anything to say, so she kept her lips pressed shut.

He was playing with the things in his pocket he had stolen from the wealthy lady; she could hear them jingling softly. With a little sigh, he removed his hand and opened his palm. Several septims glittered in his hand, as well as a sapphire pendant and a few rings. Very nonchalantly, he slipped them back into his pocket and sighed again.

"Would apologizing do anything?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. Her voice cracked, and she tried desperately not to burst into tears _again_. "Let's see."

Jake clucked his tongue and rolled his shoulders. "Baran told me he thought you were pregnant, and I freaked out, I'll admit it. I can't support anyone. I can't even support myself. And there was this incident in Morrowind when… well, that doesn't matter. I made Marty promise to look out for you, and I guess that responsibility transferred to Baran after all this." He gestured to the dragon with his chin. "I came here. I thought you guys would've been gone up to Cloud Ruler Temple again. I was spotted in the Bloated Float, and Baran and Marian came and got me today. Baran told me he told you what he thought. That's it. He didn't force me over here. I came on my own.

"So if it means anything to you, I'm sorry for what I did. Really. I may be a good thief, but I have no idea if I'm a good liar," he joked, jingling the goods in his pocket again.

Lily sniffled. "You're a good liar."

The little smile flickered from his face. "I'm not lying about this. Nobody else has tried to break me out of prison before, Lil. And if all this shit with my father and the prison messed me up, I'm sorry for that too. I'm just selfish and vain. All the scars got me paranoid and worked up. But you've never been selfish," he added, quietly now. "You've always been there to help me out when I needed it. Hell, you saved my life in Cheydinhal by conjuring that daedroth. You saved my life with the skooma. And you teamed up with my mother, for the gods' sakes, to save my life again. The Elder Council would've killed me, with my father on their side."

"That was all your mother," Lily said, lingering on what he said.

"If you hadn't been petitioning for my release, she never would've come from Cheydinhal," he pointed out. "And you know, she tried to make me go back with her. She offered wealth, status, hell, a fetching roof over my head. I'd rather be poor and homeless, so long as I'm with you."

Lily sniffled again and rubbed her nose. Akatosh, tears were stinging her eyes _again_.

"Even if I'm pregnant?"

A little shudder shot through him, and she felt grief wash over her.

"That is a _really _scary word," he mumbled, playing with the things in his pocket again. "But I'd stay with you if you're pregnant. We could always mooch money off my mother now that she wants to be part of my life."

Lily blinked, shocked. "You would? Stay, I mean?"

Her favourite little smile showed up on his face again. "Yeah. I would." He reached forward and took her hand, pulling her closer to fill the gap between them. "Now that I've had you, I can't imagine my life without you. You're always there to fix my fuck-ups, and you put up with all the shit I do. No one else can do both."

Lily suddenly thought back to what Martin had said before they sent Baran and Marian into Paradise. Something about love. And Jake.

His little smile grew a bit, and he said, "I really like you a lot, Lil."

She snorted, surprised. "That wasn't what I expected," she admitted.

"I know." He grinned, abashed. "But I can't say that. Really, I tried on the walk here. I can't. Will you put up with that too?"

Lily rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "I'll put up with anything and everything, Jake, for as long as you need it."

A mysterious smirk suddenly crossed his face. "You know, I know a way of getting a good deal of money out of my father."

Her eyebrows rose. "You can't squeeze blood from a stone."

"I have the law on my side, for once." He dug in his pocket for a moment, then removed his fist. "I never considered it 'til now. He may have banished my name, but I'm still legally the first son, and the heir to all he has. If I know him, he hasn't bothered change his will or anything since I've been gone."

"What are you getting at, Jake?"

He grinned and set his hand in hers, opening it. She felt something small and hard plunk onto her palm. "Lily Laroque, care to join me in scamming my father out of everything he has?"

Lily pulled her hand away and there, lying innocently against the soft white, was a silver band set with a blue stone.

Her knees felt as though they had spontaneously turned to liquid.

She choked a little laugh and felt tears shoot to her eyes as she looked at the ring in her hand. "You _would _give me a stolen ring," she muttered.

He looked at her expectantly. "So that's a yes?"

She looked at it a moment longer, then glanced up at him. "Jake, if I'm going to break the law with anyone, it's going to be you."

Jake laughed and scooped up the ring, taking her hand. "Well, technically we won't be breaking the law. Everything he owns is also legally mine, and I'll get a tonne of that shit after marriage. But it'll be hard getting to it." As he spoke, he uncurled her fingers and slipped the ring over her knuckle. "Hey, it fits. Weird. And my mother will help a bit," he added, smirking. "And also, technically, you'll be a nobleman's wife."

She giggled without intending to. "I'm sure my father will be glad to know I'm marrying someone of noble blood."

"That's it though. Only my blood is noble. Hell, I don't even own a house."

Lily smiled and looked at the ring once more before wrapping her arms around his skinny waist. "I'll put up with it for as long as it takes."

She felt him sigh, with relief probably, as he returned her hug. Wetness clumped her lashes, and this time she let them stay. Smiling, she glanced up at the dragon standing protectively over them.

They didn't move until someone thudded a fist against Jake's back. Lily pulled away and saw Baran grinning at them, with Marian smiling slightly beside him.

"That worked wonders," Baran remarked happily.

Lily smiled. "Thanks, Baran."

"No problem, Sister. Me and Marian are going out to the Nibenay for a bit. Don't tie any knots 'til we get back."

"When are you leaving?" Jake asked.

"Now. Ocato's named me Champion of Cyrodiil, and I've been fitted for the Imperial Dragon armour he's giving me. I have nothing left to do here. My business with this crisis is done." Baran wrapped his arm around Marian's shoulder and his grin widened. "I'm a free man now. Maybe if I'm lucky, people will stop recognizing me as a hero, saviour and champion so I can go about my life normally."

"Don't count on it," Jake said dryly. "People will recognize you no matter what."

"Well, I'll just go somewhere nobody knows who I am," Baran decided. "Settle down, you two. Take it easy. The Daedra are gone and your name's been cleared; just relax."

"All right. Have fun in Nibenay," Lily said, and she quickly hugged Marian and Baran before the two turned and scooted through the crowded Temple to leave.

Once they were gone, Lily looked up at Jake. "Now what?"

Jake grinned at her, and she had a gut feeling she wouldn't like what he had in mind.

—

As it was, his suggestion was merely to go to the Laroque farm and see her family, as she hadn't been home since Last Seed, after the destruction of Kvatch.

He blatantly refused to join her on Victor, or to get a horse of his own, so Lily was left riding alone. He walked with her part of the way outside the Imperial City, but by the time they passed Fanacasecul, the Ayleid ruin, he had vanished into the trees and left her to talking to her horse for company. She saw little specks of him here and there, but it was nine o'clock that night, near an Ayleid well where Lily was setting up camp, before he reappeared at her side.

She was tossing sticks onto a flat spot in the grass when she saw him wander out of the shadows. Looking up and smiling, she asked, "Where were you?"

"A fort near here. I think it's called Vlastarus." He brushed dirt and twigs from his hair and collapsed on the ground opposite her. "I found this." He tossed a small metal box at her, and she barely caught it.

Lily held it up to her face. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but it sounds like there could be money inside. I couldn't open it. Figured you might, with your wizardy ways." He yawned, but seemed to figure he needed to be useful, as he leaned forward and picked up where he left off with the fire.

Lily made a pondering noise, then set the box on the grass in front of her. She tossed a simple unlocking spell at it, and a moment later the bolts clicked and she easily opened the lid. "There's…" She quickly counted. "Twenty-four drakes and whatever this metal thing is." She held up a long, flat piece of metal. "Well, now we aren't flat broke."

"That's a lockpick. I can use that. Buy food when we reach Skingrad," he suggested. "I can't hunt at all. Vaba always did that for me."

Lily eyed him with a frown as she shut the box and locked it again. He was still calling Dar'vaba by his pet name, which she found exceedingly odd. "Speaking of, have you seen him since he tossed you in prison?"

"Not hide nor hair, which is great." He quickly started up the fire and leaned back against a rock. "Have any trouble on the way here?"

"A wolf tried chasing me, but there was a Legionnaire not too far away, and he took care of it for me. I'm going straight through Skingrad tomorrow, but I'll be stopping at Kvatch."

Jake stretched his fingers and popped the knuckles. "Why?"

"I know people there. I lived there for three years, Jake," she remarked blandly. "Besides, I need to speak with the primate of the chapel."

"Again, why?"

"We need _someone _to marry us eventually."

"I'm leaving all that to you," he said immediately. "You pick where, you pick when, you pick everything. I don't know how to plan things."

Lily set the box beside her saddlebags, on the ground nearby. "You want no say in the matter?"

"Well, run by me what you want, but it's up to you. I never thought I'd ever wind up married, so I've never thought of it."

She sighed and stoked the little fire. "I never thought I'd be married either, you know. I always thought I would be a priestess, and they don't get married. They're married to the god they worship," she corrected.

Jake chuckled and scooted around the fire to pull a blanket from the saddlebags. Victor grunted at him, and he warily backed up after grabbing the blanket. "I'm sure you've thought of it. You're a girl. My sisters were planning their weddings as soon as they could talk."

Lily shook her head and pulled her hair over her shoulder to braid it. "Jake, we've been betrothed for one day. Ooh," she said, shivering. "Betrothed. That feels really strange to say."

"I'll take your word for it."

He gave her an expectant look, and she sighed. "Okay, well, when I was a little girl, before you showed up at the farm and I was still bent on going to the Arcane University to study to become a mage, I used to think about my wedding. I wanted an extravagant one in a lavish chapel with flowers and birds and tonnes of guests, because at the time, I wanted to be marrying the prince of some exotic foreign land."

"I think that was Kintyra's dream wedding too," Jake teased, bundling up in the blanket. "And it practically came true. I wasn't invited, duh, but I snuck in and saw. Instead of a lavish chapel, she was in front of the White Gold Tower, and instead of the prince of some exotic land, it was the rich captain of the guard. Well, at the time I didn't know it was Lex she was marrying," he amended quietly.

Leaving him to his thoughts, Lily unfolded her own blanket and curled up near him and the fire, wondering herself whether Ilav would even agree to one day marrying her and Jake. After all, she and the primate had never been more than colleages.

—

Jake stayed with Lily long enough the next morning to help buy food in Skingrad with the miniscule money they had. Then, as she finished packing everything away and was saddling up Victor to head out again, he started off on foot, leaving her to continue to Kvatch on her own.

She arrived without trouble by midafternoon. Not seeing Jake anywhere, she turned Victor toward the hill heading up to the wrecked city and the encampment at the foot. Excitement grew in her chest upon seeing the tents and lean-tos, and very reluctantly, she looked up at the charred remains of the city she loved. Fires were long burnt out, and the snow made everything look soft and peaceful. Perhaps one day it would be rebuilt.

She couldn't come back permanently, though. Not without Martin.

Letting Victor ease up on the speed—as she had been pushing him harder than normal since she left Skingrad—Lily brought him up toward the encampment. People she recognized immediately milled about, folding, cooking, or simply conversing.

There, by a fire, was the tall blonde Nord of the Mages Guild, Sigrid. Weedum-Ja, an Argonian was stirring something in a pot not too far away. And there—that Redguard woman suddenly caught Lily's eye.

"Oleta!" she cried joyously. "Oleta!"

The healer turned and caught sight of Lily. A grin instantly flashed over her face, and she dropped what she was doing—shucking corn, from the looks of things—to run up to the horse.

"Lily! Oh, I never dreamed in a thousand years you'd come back!" she called, holding Victor still so Lily could dismount. "You seemed so busy in your letters, and in Martin's—may Akatosh rest his soul," she added softly. "I heard all about what happened. We all did."

"What happened with Martin?" Lily asked, dropping to the packed dirt ground and patting Victor's flank.

"Everything. The Champion of Cyrodiil, his friend, that thief—was he the man who convinced you to come here?—and how you freed him from prison, and the battle against Mehrunes Dagon, and Martin's sacrifice." Oleta sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "I'm sure the stories I've heard are all wrong, but I know you won't want to retell them."

"Not now," Lily admitted. "It's… all a little too fresh, I think."

"Of course." Oleta led her to a few tents surrounding a fire, and pushed her onto a wooden bench, promising someone would take care of Victor. "Such a beautiful horse," she remarked, eyeing him as an Imperial hurried toward him. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Lily waved away the stew that was bubbling over the fire. "No, I'm fine. Have you been here since the attack?"

"In Last Seed? Aye." Oleta seated herself opposite Lily and picked up where she left off with the corn. "Raiders and mauraders have come by a few times in the months, but nobody's been seriously injured. We're all determined to have Kvatch rebuilt. Oh, are you cold?"

Lily shook her head. "No, my cloak will do."

"So why are you here now?" Oleta asked curiously, tossing a handful of corn husks onto the fire.

"I'm visiting my family. Jake—my fiancé—he thinks we should—"

"Fiancé?" the Redguard repeated, grinning. "Jake, the thief? Oh, that's quite the coincidence. Sorry, carry on."

Lily smiled and cuddled her cloak closer around her shoulders. "Jake thinks we should see my family, since I haven't been to the farm since Last Seed, before I went to Anvil. So that's why I'm out here. I figured I'd visit before we reach the farm."

"So where is he?"

"I have no idea. He wanders." Lily sighed and looked over her shoulder. "Do you happen to know where Ilav is? I have to talk to him."

Oleta paused in her shucking. "You? Talk to Ilav? That's a new one. Why would you need to talk to him?"

"I'll need someone to marry me to Jake one day, and I figure he can."

The healer grimaced and crunched husks in her hand. "I wouldn't recommend talking to him at the moment. He's been… fragile, ever since the Daedra attacked Kvatch. I'll chat with him if you like, and send you a letter afterwards. I don't think he's clued in yet that the Daedric Invasion is over, and we have nothing to worry about except getting our city back on its feet."

"A letter will do just fine," Lily agreed. "I just don't know where I'm going to be once I'm away from the farm. I don't own a house, and neither does Jake…"

"Send it to Cheydinhal," a voice said from behind the nearby tent. Lily and Oleta both looked over, confused. Jake popped from the trees a moment later, brushing leaves from his hair. He had somehow acquired a fur-lined coat since Lily had last seen him, and there was a suspicious red substance rubbed poorly from his hands.

"You must be Jake," Oleta said, rather blandly. "Why Cheydinhal?"

"Just thought of it now," he said, giving her a charming smile. "We could stay with my mother in Cheydinhal 'til we do whatever we need to be doing. Of course, we'll be conditioning ourselves to a life of being waited on, and stupid fancy parties."

"Will you survive that?" Lily asked seriously.

Jake grimaced. "I'll cope. Hey, I'm Jacob Bercarius," he introduced, holding out a hand to Oleta.

She brushed her hands off on the skirt of her dress before standing and taking his hand. "I'm Oleta, the healer for the chapel here. Or I was, once."

"And where were you this time?" Lily inquired sweetly, eyeing the blood in his nails.

"Looking for bandit camps. We didn't have the cash to buy anything to keep me warm, so I skinned a Khajiit," he joked, smirking at her.

"Too bad it wasn't Dar'vaba," she muttered. "Should we go?"

"If you want."

Lily frowned. "I was serious before, you know." When he glanced at her, confused, she added, "When I asked if you'd survive living with your mother. It isn't just that you hate nobles. She lives in _Cheydinhal_."

"Let's just go see your family, okay? If you want, we can talk about it later. And _no_," he said, seeming to know that she was going to ask if he wanted to ride, "I'm walking. It's not very far. I'll see you there. Nice meeting you, Oleta."

"You too." They watched him wander off down the hill, and as soon as he was out of earshot, the healer remarked, "Boy, he's strange. Are you sure you're up to handling him?"

Lily gave her friend an exaggerated, worried look, making Oleta laugh. "Gods help me if I'm not."


	29. Home is where the heart bleeds

She didn't see him the rest of the way to the Laroque farm. When she rode up the path from the Gold Road, nobody was outside. Snow covered everything, and smoke curled gently from the chimneys of the comfortable farmhouse up ahead. Smiling to herself, Lily steered Victor around to the back, where the barn was squatted. Dismounting, she led him through the doors into the warmth of the building. Other animals called greetings, and she sighed happily at being back in the comforting warmth of the family farm.

After putting Victor away and packing what she needed in one of the smaller bags, she left the barn and marched through the thin layer of snow toward the front of the house. When she came near the door, she heard voices inside; more than just her father, sister and Marie's husband. They had visitors.

Without bothering to knock, she kicked snow off her boots and opened the door.

Warmth from the fire hit her like a wall, and she blinked for a moment, surprised. Shutting the door behind her, she looked around and saw a golden Khajiit lounging before the fire, and a burly Orc smoking in the corner. Her sister's Redguard husband was making conversation with the Orc, and Lily could hear even more male voices in the adjacent kitchen.

Brom, short-haired and proper—a complete city slicker—looked back at the sound of the shutting door. "Oh, hello," he greeted, pausing his conversation with the Orc. "Another visitor? I'm Brom. Can I help you with anything?"

Well, he was courteous, just as she remembered. "No, actually. It's Lily."

A look of surprise crossed over his broad features. "Oh! I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you immediately! Shall I get Louis or Marie?"

Lily shook her head, and in doing so dislodge a clump of snow. "No, I won't bother them yet." She set the bag by her boots after kicking them off, and hung her cloak up to dry on a hanger by the door. "How have things been here?"

Brom frowned as she approached. "Did you get your father's last letter?"

"No… why? What did it say?" She sat down beside the Khajiit, who barely stirred at the presence of someone new.

"I'm sure you heard that Marie lost the baby."

"Yes."

"She's pregnant once more," he admitted, smiling a little.

"Shouldn't that be good?" Lily asked worriedly.

He nodded and sighed. "Yes, but she thinks she'll lose it again. She wanted to talk to you about it, being her sister." There was a faint note of finality to his voice.

"Oh, all right." Lily looked into the fire, leaving him to his conversation with the Orc. She leaned back on the couch, ready to relax for a bit, and merely listened; Brom and the Orc were talking about the Arena, and how the Champion of Cyrodiil should fight, for wouldn't he be incredible at it? In the kitchen, three male voices were discussing something, but she couldn't decipher anything notable.

After a few minutes of merely sitting in the warmth of the room, she sighed and stood up. No point in making her family wait any longer, and there would be no easy way to tell them she intended to marry a criminal.

Just when she was about to go in front of the fire to wind toward the kitchen, the Khajiit decided to finally say something.

"I wouldn't recommend going in there yet," she purred softly. Her amber eyes remained on the fire, though her long, thin tail twitched somewhat and curled around her leg.

"Why not?" Lily stopped and frowned at her.

Her ears were relaxed as she gazed into the fire, kept from being completely flat by a dark red headband that also held longer golden tresses from her eyes. Over a narrow, sleek frame, she wore a plain green shirt and brown trousers that were somewhat stained with mud on the hem. Clawed fingers played absently with the seam of the pants as she glanced up at Lily.

"They've been talking for a while. I doubt they'll want to be interrupted yet. It sounds important." Her ears stood a bit, and her whiskers twitched sensitively.

"Oh. All right. I'll wait a bit." Lily leaned against the stone hearth, warming her chilly hands.

"Lily, he said your name is?"

"Yes."

The Khajiit looked toward the kitchen. "They've mentioned that name a few times."

"Odd. Thanks." Disregarding propriety, Lily pulled away from the hearth and marched directly for the kitchen, where she could hear the voices more clearly. The gentle Breton accent of her father, and two Imperials: Jake—how did he get there before her?—and Marius Rotarius, unless she was sorely mistaken.

"—not anymore, Marius," her father was saying. Lily stood just out of sight, wanting to hear their conversation before she barged in. "I read the broadsheet after it was published by the Courier. Bail was posted. His name was cleared for all charges."

"Yes, that's the official record," the Legionnaire countered smoothly. "But that is only for what the Elder Council charged him for when he was arrested as the Gray Fox."

"A total set-up," Jake butted in. "I'm _not _the Gray Fox. If I was, you wouldn't be able to understand that I'm Jacob Bercarius right now."

"And that, Louis—that is very near to admitting being in the Thieves Guild right there," Marius added, sounding rather triumphant. "He understands how it works."

"How what works?" Louis asked.

"The Gray Cowl of Noctural. Rumour says that the Gray Fox stole it from Nocturnal herself. Of course, that's only what rumour says." Marius' voice was dry now. "Needless to say—he has done much more than he's been charged for, Louis."

Someone—Jake, probably—snorted.

"No shit I have," he scoffed. "I'm not stupid enough to get caught every single time I break the law."

"Admitting to it."

Someone else sighed.

"Marius," Louis said softly, "please hear him out. I would like to hear all sides of this before I jump to any conclusions."

Jake grunted, and Marius made a low growling noise. Lily was surprised they weren't trying to kill each other, with all the testosterone in the air. "Break the law can mean a lot of things, you know," Jacob pointed out. "It isn't necessarily murder and theft. Only someone narrow-minded would think that."

"Enough with the criminal activity," the farmer interrupted as Marius inhaled to retort. "I don't care about that. I'm sure we've all committed a crime in some way. I've skipped on my taxes," he said, and the Legionnaire made a choking noise. "What I care about—Jacob, do you love my daughter?"

There was a long bout of silence.

"Hm," Marius grunted. "I think it's time you leave, Bercarius."

"Or what? Are you going to arrest me right here if I don't? Call it trespassing?" He was taunting the soldier, egging him on.

Terrified that it could very well blow up into an all-out confrontation, Lily decided to make herself known. She rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, surprised at the scene before her. Louis was rubbing his forehead as though it pained him, and Jake and Marius were practically nose-to-nose, glaring each other down with intense hatred in their eyes. They were an even match in height; Marius was only more intimidating because of his soldier status, and the burly muscles showing through his plain white shirt.

"Papa," Lily said, forcing a smile onto her mouth. "Jake, when did you get here?"

"Half an hour ago," he replied stiffly. His eyes were still locked on Marius, and his fist was clenching and unclenching at his side, very near the bloodstained Blade of Woe.

A warm smile grew on Louis' thin, lined lips. "I was wondering when you'd get here, Lily, dear," he said gently. "Jacob warned me that you were on your way when he arrived. It's so good to see you again."

Lily stepped into his embrace, and welcomed the comforting smell of the farm that constantly lingered in his clothes and hair. "You too, Papa. What's going on here?" she asked, though she very well knew.

"This—" Marius started to snap, but Louis cut him off by delicately clearing his throat.

"Jacob tells me that you two intend to wed," he said, holding her shoulders when they finished hugging.

"It's true." Lily held up her hand, where the stolen ring still sat. "I've talked to Oleta, and she's going to talk to Ilav for me. It's going to happen, Papa."

Louis smiled happily. "So long as you're happy, Lily. Have you planned out what you're going to do—where you'll live, jobs to get?"

Lily glanced at Jake, and he merely arched his eyebrows. "We might stay with Jake's mother for a bit until we get settled." That was enough information on _that_.

"Do you mind if I have a little chat with Jacob, dear? Marie is in her room; I'm sure she would love to see you."

Lily nodded and gave Jake a stern look before turning and leaving the kitchen, Marius on her heels. Back in the living room, she paused and smiled at him, trying not to look strained, though she clearly remembered their last meeting in Bruma.

"It's good to see you again too, Marius," she offered kindly.

The Imperial's mouth twitched upwards, but it was hard to get past the heavy frown lines around his lips and on his brow. "And you as well, Lily. Are you heading upstairs?" She nodded, and the two turned past the kitchen to head for the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. They walked in silence, until they reached Marius' room. He bade her goodnight, and she continued alone to her sister's room.

There was no light coming from the cracks around the door when she approached Marie's room. Though, it was fairly late… not late enough for Marie to be sleeping.

Lily knocked once, lightly, before pushing open the door. A blast of hot, muggy air was the first to greet her—it felt as though the fire had been lit all day, with the windows closed.

"Marie?" she croaked, stepping into the room. It was completely dark, save for a faint bit of light shining in through the window above the bed. "Are you up?"

A lump shifted beneath the thick blankets on the bed. "Lily?" Marie's voice was soft and sleepy. "When did you get here?"

"Not long ago." Lily ventured carefully into the room and sat on the edge of the bed after feeing around a bit. "How are you? Brom said you're pregnant again."

Marie sighed heavily and rolled over to face her sister. She was unnaturally pale compared to Lily's memory, and her long auburn waves were mussed and tousled. "I am."

Lily lightly touched her sister's arm. "Have you left this room at all lately?" she asked, guessing from the stuffiness.

Marie shook her head. "Not unless I have to. I'm afraid to do anything but sleep, Lily," she admitted, whispering. "I don't want to lose another one."

"You won't," the priestess promised softly. Despite the blankets and heat of the room, Marie was trembling. "You'll have a baby."

There was another sigh, and Marie's hand settled over Lily's. "I need something to love," she breathed. Marie sounded exhausted; she shouldn't have been shivering with how hot her room was.

"Brom?"

"It's not the same. You'll know someday." Marie yawned and curled closer to her sister.

Lily looked up at the window. The shutters were closed, and only a very faint draft blew in through the barely-opened glass panes. "Sooner than you might think," she remarked, standing and pushing open the window and the shutters. Cold air instantly enveloped her and began pushing the hot air out of the room. Feeling much clearer, she sat back down beside Marie. "You shouldn't lock yourself in here. You'll get sick."

The bedcovers rustled as she tried to cover herself more. "I'm fine. And what's this about sooner than I might think?"

Lily held up her hand so the ring was visible in the darkness. Marie gawked at it and pulled her hand closer to inspect it.

"Wow. Is he rich?"

The younger sister snorted. "His family is. You'll remember him—Jacob Bercarius, the one in my letters. He's been here before, too, at the farm."

"The criminal who was arrested as the Gray Fox?"

"I—yes. But he's not the Gray Fox, Marie. Someone with a… grudge against him set him up," Lily explained, barely catching herself in time when she was about to admit Dar'vaba's real intent. "He's really not a bad guy."

"All right. When are you getting married?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh. Where will you live?"

Lily's mouth twisted. "I have no idea."

Marie managed a breathy laugh. "As usual, you have no idea what you're going to do with your life, Lily. This is going to be just like the mage training and the Arcane University."

"Only I'll go through with it this time." Lily tucked her hair behind her ear and tilted her head to the side to admire her sister. She was almost exactly how Lily remembered, only thinner. Sicker. Pangs of worry clenched her stomach. "Maybe I'll have the time to actually visit the Arcane University now that I'm not helping the Champion of Cyrodiil save the world."

"I hope so," her sister sighed.

Lily blinked. That was not the answer she expected. "You do?"

Something moved, and Lily thought Marie may have nodded. "I'm sorry for putting down your dreams when we were kids, Lily. I was so mean to you, and for no reason too. Maybe I was just bitter after Mama and Clément died. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"It's fine, Marie. Please don't stay in here forever," Lily said, standing.

"Yeah, okay," was a rather pitiful, unpromising response.

"I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight, Marie. I love you."

"Love you too, Lily."

Shaking her head, the priestess turned and left her sister's room. Mere steps away was her own; hoping it wasn't occupied by one of the guests, she pushed open the door and slipped inside. Dark, windows shut, hearth empty: it wasn't in use.

Lily opened a chest of drawers beneath a speckled old mirror and found a brush. Everything was as she left it before scurrying off to Anvil; her father and sister had left it alone.

Pulling the soft bristles of the brush through her tangled hair, Lily wandered about, opening drawers and cupboards in a search for clothes. She was grimy from travel, but far too exhausted, mentally and physically, to worry about bathing just yet. Grabbing up an old knee-length shift, Lily tossed it onto the nicely made bed and opened the window with her free hand. A cool breeze drifted in; clouds covered the moon.

Once she was finished with her hair, she stacked logs and torn parchment into the hearth and lit it with a simple fire spell. Once it was crackling merrily away, she changed from her travelling clothes into the plain white shift, and collapsed face-first on her mattress. It groaned and creaked as her weight suddenly fell on it, and she grinned. It had always been rather noisy.

She remained that way for a long time, thinking about how the conversation between Jake, her father, and Marius had gone before she interrupted. She couldn't imagine it lasting civilly. Punches would have been thrown between the Imperials, with nothing Louis could have done about it.

After a while, she heard the door behind her ease open, with very soft footsteps in the entranceway. A low chuckle, and, "Great view."

Lily sighed and leaned her cheek on her arm as Jake wandered into her room. "Done talking to my father?"

She watched him lean over the bed to peer out the window. "Yeah. All he did was ask when this whole thing happened, how I planned on supporting you and, or, a family, where we would stay until we had a house of our own, what we planned to do after that, and, y'know, things a father would typically ask his, uh…" A little grimace passed over his face. "Future son-in-law."

"And what did you say?" Lily rolled onto her side, admiring him. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and she could see several long, thick scars running from his wrist to his elbow, glowing silvery-orange in the firelight. She gawked at them, unable to look away. She had _never _noticed those scars before. They looked ancient. Deadly.

"Uh… when it happened, that I'd get a job and stay in Cheydinhal with my mother 'til we get our own place, and that sort of thing," he replied, scratching the back of his head. A little bit of dark stubble had grown on his cheeks again, and he rubbed the back of his wrist against it. "I can't give straight answers, since I don't know what in fetching Oblivion we're going to do."

"Were you getting along, at least?"

"Yeah. Not with Marius, so thank the gods he's not your dad." Jake glanced down at her, and she looked up at his face rather than the underside of his arms. A little frown pulled his brows together, and she squirmed; he knew she had been looking at the scars. "Tired?"

"Exhausted." Lily crawled beneath the quilt on the bed and stifled a yawn. "So I'm definitely going to bed now."

Jake looked at the space beside her, confused. "You know," he began slowly, almost cautiously. Lily watched him, frowning. "This will be the first time I've slept in a bed in gods know _how _long. And it'll be the first time I'm not in danger of dying in my sleep in a long time too."

"So what's the matter?"

He scowled, then put on a puppy dog expression. "I'm scared," he joked.

Lily patted the spot beside her. "Come on, then."

Once they were sufficiently warm beneath the quilt, curled up together, Lily sighed happily and shut her eyes.

A few minutes after the room went quiet, she felt Jake shift, and he whispered a moment later, "So, exactly how tired are you?"

Lily blindly patted around, then smacked the back of his head when she found it. He yelped loudly, and someone in the room next to them thudded what sounded like a fist against the wall. "Go to bed, ass," she said, and fell asleep.

—

Of course, saying that she fell asleep is a term used lightly. Lily had been in one of those half-slumbers, in sleep limbo, for what felt like five minutes before something hard smacked into her head, sending her flying off the bed and onto the floor with a grunt.

Stars quite literally floated before her eyes and her ears were ringing loudly as she rolled into the stone hearth. "Holy gods," she whispered, clutching her head. Her own agony had to be put on hold—she heard sounds of struggle and fighting on the other side of the room.

Lily rubbed her watery eyes and managed to keep them open. Sprawled on the floor, she had a clear view of the proceedings going on across the bed from her—by looking underneath the bed. Jake and two others were wrestling on the floor, grunting and snarling at each other. The strangers—a dark brown Khajiit and a burly Dunmer—seemed to be trying to grapple Jake and knock him unconscious.

Or viciously molest him.

She couldn't tell.

"Stop," she said weakly. "Stop. Help."

Finally, the struggles stopped. Jake lay panting on the floor, with the Dunmer fellow seated on top of him. Jake's arms were bent back at an awkward angle, and his cheek was pressed into the rough wooden floor.

The Khajiit stood and grunted. "Never submissive before, were you, Cub?" he rasped.

Lily's heart skipped a beat.

Two.

Three.

Dar'vaba.

An assassin of the Dark Brotherhood was in her home.

Jake said nothing, but she could see him shut his eyes and grimace as the Dunmer pressed on his arms, digging them into his back.

The Khajiit wandered around the foot of the bed, toward the hearth—and Lily. She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see his furless scars or the empty eye socket.

"This one is easy to track," he purred, lightly poking Lily with one toe. She felt his tail swish by her bare legs, and she pressed her eyes harder shut. "Noisy. Messy. But you, Cub, you could be more difficult—had I not known what you are like in the wild. So foolish, going into the forts and ruins and bandit camps. So typical Cub."

Jake made a threatening noise, deep in his throat, but didn't reply. Instead, the low voice of the Dark Elf spoke up. "Now what, Brother? Do you want me to kill him?"

"He is mine to kill. He has been for three years."

The Dunmer chuckled.

Shivers ran through Lily.

Dar'vaba made a catlike pondering noise. "Cub is mine. Do what you want to this one, Brother."

His claws scratched on the wood floor as he walked back to his prey and his fellow assassin. There sounded to be a bit of a kerfuffle on the other side of the room, then Lily felt someone come closer to her, with light footsteps. Something cold touched her, and she gasped.

The Dark Elf laughed again, gripping her roughly with chilly hands and flipping her onto her back. "Hey," he grunted, and lightly slapped her cheek. "Little Breton. Look at me."

He hit her again, and Lily's eyes fluttered open. He was crouched above her, smirking down at her with an evil leer. Too frightened to say anything, she merely looked up at him.

"On your back is better, no? So you can at least _think _you are facing me like a man. Now, Cub," Dar'vaba started to say on the other side of the room, but he was interrupted by the sound of someone—Jake—noisily hawking and spitting. Lily looked over just in time to see the Khajiit wipe sputum from his cheek, then growl ferociously and slam a fist right into Jake's nose.

She screamed when a sickening crunch filled the air and Jake jerked back, blood pouring from his face.

Her reaction garnered her a punch in the stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs.

"Shut up," the Dunmer snarled, straddling her hips and pressing his full weight on her. Gasping for air, Lily moaned at the sudden pressure, and he snatched the front of her shirt, pulling her upward. "Keep your fetching mouth shut, Breton, or I'll slit your throat."

For a moment, the room was completely silent.

Outside, Lily could hear cheerful voices laughing, as well as clinking and the crackle of a fire.

Everyone else was in the yard, as was typical during the winter months, for a bonfire.

The Dark Elf seemed to realize what she was thinking, and he chortled again. "No one's here to save you now. Hurry up, Dar'vaba."

"No." The cat spoke softly, and Lily looked underneath the bed to see him leaning close to Jake's face as he choked and gagged on his own blood. Dar'vaba's whiskers twitched delicately. "This one has evaded me for three years. It is the dawn of a new era; his death will finally be mine, and the Night Mother will finally have his blood."

"Hm. Sithis will be pleased."

Dar'vaba's nose was nearly touching Jake's face now. He pulled his lips back and flattened his ears, and Lily could see the stumps of broken teeth from his fight with the daedroth. "I cannot wait to see Lucien Lachance's face when Sithis tells him that Jacob Bercarius is finally dead."

"No," Lily whispered, before common sense told her to keep her mouth firmly shut.

Maybe it was weird of her to notice during the rather dire situation, but her conscience sounded an awful lot like Martin.

Something stung her face, and she came-to a few moments later with a throbbing skull and a dagger poking her neck. "What part of shut up don't you understand, woman?" the Dunmer snapped.

"Apparently all of it," she mumbled, and gasped, struggling to writhe away as he dug the point of the knife into the skin above her breastbone and dragged down. Blood welled from the cut and soaked into the front of her shift.

Oh, Akatosh, her Martin-voiced conscience was slow to react today.

"Keep her loud, Brother," Dar'vaba hissed. "Give us a reason to kill her."

Lily's eyelids fluttered as he removed the blade from her front. She let her head roll to the side, where she saw Dar'vaba calmly sharpening a jagged dagger as he stared down at Jake's bloody face. Jake remained stony and silent the entire time, and his nose wasn't bleeding as profusely anymore, but Lily could see tear tracks running through the crimson. He had to be in so much pain.

Unconsciously, she summoned a healing spell to her fingertips, but as she was touching the Dunmer, he noticed.

"Hey!" he shouted. "She's trying to use spells! You never said she was a mage!"

Lily yelped at his dangerous expression and missed whatever Dar'vaba said. Jerking her hips upwards in an attempt to dislodge her captor, she shuffled to the side and tried to bring her knees up to get away. But he was too quick for her, and he splayed his hand on her chest and slammed her back into the floor, knocking her head against the wood. Dazed, Lily tried to escape again, flailing toward the bed, flipping and writhing and trying desperately to get him off her. She freed her hands, which had been trapped beneath her, and shoved him weakly back, but he rolled his weight forward to keep his balance, and his knife plunged into her abdomen, just beneath her ribs.

Everything seemed to stand still for just a few moments. Lily gasped as pain shot through her body, radiating from the dagger jutting from her waist.

Then things went back to real-time. Something slammed loudly nearby, echoing dully in her head, and voices picked up amidst snarls and hisses. Someone was shoved into the wall and a painting slipped off its nail and broke on the floor. Somebody called her name, weak, whispered…

A blue-tinted hand yanked the dagger from her body, making her jerk and twitch, and blood bubbled from the gaping wound. Lily weakly covered it; her hands were instantly stained crimson, and she tried to summon a healing spell to fix it. She couldn't concentrate; the world was spinning nauseously around her.

A furry hand came down atop hers, and she wanted to scream, but it wasn't dark brown. There was that other Khajiit in the house, the gold one…

"What's she doing?" a voice echoed tonelessly above her face.

"Drying do heal 'erself," a clogged slur replied. "Geddit do help."

Lily's lids shut and she pawed uselessly at the wound. The blood was hot, smooth.

"Churl," the first said, "go outside, get the Breton and the Imperial. Now!"

Her brows twitched into a pitiful frown. "Churl?" she breathed, and slipped into the void.


	30. And where they have to take you in

Ida Flaccus was accustomed to guests, both expected and unexpected. Servants kept her manor in Cheydinhal immaculate twenty-four-seven, with all the spare rooms—of which there were six—in perfect order: dusted, swept, mopped and the bedsheets cleaned every two days, even if nobody had slept in them. Her hospitality was famous in the county, and had been even before she abandoned Jacob Bercarius the Fifth. While he wasn't as open as she was, he always let guests into the house when she said they should. She was the county hostess—always inviting people into her home with a smile, throwing parties, and allowing even the homeless to seek shelter on occasion. Lady Ida was not a woman to turn down a guest.

Even so, it came as a surprise to her, one afternoon in early Sun's Dawn, when her steward, the Orc Gograk gro-Bol, interrupted her in the library to tell her that there was a pack of drenched peasants on the stoop, and should he permit them in?

Ida gawked at him for a moment, her book forgotten in her lap.

"Drenched peasants?" she repeated, confused. "As in people from the country?"

Gograk nodded and awkwardly smoothed his large green hands over his topknot of black hair. "Aye, ma'am. It turned from snow to sleet about a half hour ago, so they're soaked to the bone, and say they have someone at the stables with the horses who needs your attention."

Ida got to her feet and unfolded creases in her gown before following Gograk out of the large, domed library and through the hallways toward the front entrance. "How many people are here?" she asked, fixing her hair and hoping she looked decent.

"Three that I saw, though there may be more at the stables, ma'am," her steward reported dutifully. "A grubby Khajiit, a Breton fellow, and an Imperial Legion soldier in full regalia."

Ida was so stunned by this that she forgot to check for the little step before the front door, and her toe caught on it, tripping her. Gograk caught her deftly before she could topple into the front door, and she quickly straightened out.

"Oh. Well. Thank you." Ida waved at the door, smiling awkwardly.

Gograk nodded and straightened his shirt before opening the door. "I do apologize for the wait, sirs and ma'am. Lady Ida Flaccus." He stepped back, showing her off.

Ida plastered a smile on her painted face and peered interestedly at the three bedraggled people on her porch. A small gold-furred Khajiit with a red cloth tied around her head, holding soaked hair just out of her eyes; a tall, imposing Legionnaire in the steel armour from the Imperial City, his hand set on his broadsword; a Breton fellow with short, thin auburn hair and bloodstained hands.

"Good afternoon," she said pleasantly. She easily hid the fact that the sight of the blood on his hands alarmed her. "Please, come in."

The Khajiit glanced hopefully at her companions—right, cats didn't like water much, did they?—but the Legionnaire stepped forward, immediately taking control. He would, of course.

"My lady, my name is Marius Rotarius, of the Imperial Legion," he announced formally. Moving smoothly in his clunky armour, he gave her a very polite bow. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything important."

"Of course not. However, before I assist you in any way, may I ask who the rest of you are, and why you are covered in blood?" She kept a civil tongue; something she was good at.

The Khajiit gave an awkard smile. "Lucrezia," she purred.

Ida frowned and glanced at Gograk, but he merely gave a discreet shrug. That was a very Imperial name for a Khajiit, but it would be far too rude to remark upon it.

Then the Breton man pushed forward so he wasn't standing in the sleet shooting sideways beneath the balcony. "I'm Louis Laroque, ma'am, and I'm sorry for being so rude, but we _need _your help."

Ida stole another glance at Gograk, and noticed that he showed no surprise whatsoever. "Louis… Laroque, did you say?" she asked, eyeing the man. Red hair, though a far different shade; pale, with freckles; that narrow Breton look…

His lips twitched into a tiny smile. "Yes, ma'am. Please tell me you've heard of my daughter."

"Would she be Lily, by any chance?"

"Yes."

Ida took a step back and waved them into the front entrance. The Khajiit instantly took the offer and shook herself out before trotting inside, giving Ida and Gograk a grateful purr as she did. The Breton and the Imperial followed a little more warily, but obliged when Ida pointed them to benches against one stone wall.

"Please, sit." Once they were all doing as she said, she asked, "So, how may I help you?"

"This is going to sound ridiculous," the ginger Breton began with a deep breath, "but your disowned son is engaged to be wed to my daughter, and when they were visiting my eldest and I at my farm near Kvatch a fortnight ago, two Dark Brotherhood assassins with a contract on your son's life broke in and assaulted your son and my daughter in the middle of the night, though Lucrezia thankfully stopped the assassins before death could be dealt. Both your son and my daughter lost a lot of blood and were in a delirium for several days, and once they were able to function on their own again, it was demanded that we take them here to Cheydinhal, to you, ma'am."

He paused for another breath.

Ida looked at Gograk. His little eyes were wide.

"The journey was long and arduous with the two of them injured, but we had Marius protecting us, and it had to be done. We were told this was the safest place for them, with you, under the protection of your name and staff, ma'am," he finished shakily.

Ida let this news work its way through her head before asking, "What exactly happened to our children?"

"The assassins broke your son's nose and beat him up pretty well, my lady," Rotarius, the Legionnaire, said. "And Lily was stabbed. They're both at the stables with our horses and wagon."

"Were the criminals apprehended?"

A twinge of regret crossed the soldier's face. "No, unfortunately, my lady. They fled before we could get them, as Lucrezia was the only one to hear the commotion upstairs and stop them from downright murdering Jacob and Lily. However, once the two were able to, they explained to us who exactly one assassin was, and what his accomplice looked like. I notified the Legion offices in the Imperial City of the assault, and they in turn notified the different counties to be on the lookout."

Ida ran her tongue over her painted lips and exhaled slowly as the three gazed expectantly at her.

Well, she _had _wanted to spend some quality time with her eldest son, hadn't she?

Slouching somewhat, she murmured, "Bring them here, then."

—

Lily wiped damp hair off her brow and stared at the grand front entrance of Lady Ida Flaccus' abode. Everything was polished so it shined like a constellation—the dark wood floors were scratch-free and gleaming, the walls were covered in fancy papers and paintings, and everything, from chandeliers to frames to doorknobs, seemed to be edged in gold.

She leaned on Marius' arm as she peered about, completely awed by the beauty and wealth of the home. Lucrezia and her father sat on a large, cushioned bench inside, where Lady Ida and her Orc steward chatted amiably with them about the Champion of Cyrodiil.

He was still the talk of the country.

Marius carefully guided her down a random stair that looked ready to trip anyone caught unawares, and Lily winced as a fresh jolt of pain coursed through her. The stab wound had been inexpertly stitched and inexpertly healed when Lily was still gushing blood. They hadn't the time to stop and have it properly taken care of during their journey to Cheydinhal, so it was still causing her far too much pain.

She heard Jake step into the house behind her, and he calmly shut the door and walked past her and Marius. He didn't seem at all impressed by the grandeur of the house.

Because he spent a short portion of his life in a place similar, or because he despised the noble life?

His nose had also been inexpertly fixed. Marius had viciously crunched it back into something resembling a straight line (which Lily _knew _he had to have enjoyed, since Jake cried and made a fuss when he did it), and this caused it to bleed profusely again. Just like with her own wound, Lily gave it a feeble healing spell, but it was still prone to rather gross clots and spontaneous nosebleeds.

Lily watched in silence, leaning on Marius for support, as Ida looked up at her son and seemed to freeze on the spot. Jake stopped halfway through the room and simply looked at her for a short while.

"I know we didn't end things well last time," he said curtly. He still sounded clogged. "We barely know each other at all, so there was no way we could've come to an agreement then. But hey, good news, Mum—I'm going to stop being a failure and get married sometime soon. Maybe you know, maybe you don't—but I've got the Dark Brotherhood on my ass, and they've been on my ass for the past three years."

"Jacob," she said breathlessly, "I think we should talk about this."

He nodded shortly. "Yeah. Luke," he said, looking down at the golden Khajiit. She was finally drying out from the snow and sleet, and peered up at him, ears twitching upwards. "Look after Lil, huh?" With that, he followed his mother out of the entrance.

Lily gave the Khajiit a long look. She was thankful that the cat had come to the rescue when she did, but she wanted to know exactly what was going on. Lucrezia claimed to have been heading to bed when she heard the noises from Lily's room, so she popped on in and helped Jake and Lily, but something seemed shady about it. Lily had only fragments of clear memory from that night, but she was sure she hadn't imagined Lucrezia shoving Dar'vaba and the Dunmer from the room and telling them to scram before the Legionnaire showed up.

But then, Jake was cordial with her too, almost friendly.

Lily hadn't spoken more than five words to the cat, but she already didn't trust her.

"Are you all right?" Marius asked, leading her to the bench that held her father and the Khajiit.

"I'll be fine, for now," she murmured, and let him ease her onto the cushion beside her father. "I don't want to live here."

Louis glanced her way and his eyebrows rose. "Why not? It's beautiful!"

Lily shook her head and hunched over with a little groan. "Yes, it is, but… I'm not used to this. I come from a simple life, Papa. A farm, a church… not this."

Lucrezia purred deeply. "Jake doesn't like it either. You won't stay here long, I think."

Trying not to glower at the cat, Lily stared at her hands. "Do I have to wear a corset?"

Marius let out a sudden chortle, and the Orc steward laughed softly. Leaning down to see her, Marius asked, "Whatever makes you think you have to do that, Lily?"

She felt her face instantly grow warm. "Look around you. This place is so fancy. And Lady Ida clearly wears one…"

Gograk came up to the little group and inspected Lily. "It would all be up to you, ma'am. Lady Ida would give the option, but you would not be forced upon it. I believe you are skinny enough without one."

Lily blinked up at the big green face of the Orc. "Th-Thank you?"

The big green man smiled warmly. "Hm. My lady and Mr Bercarius will likely take some time, judging the matter they have to discuss. You are all probably frozen to the bone; why don't you come with me into the parlour, where you can warm up?" Without waiting for an answer, he left the entrance, toward a long hallway at the end of the room.

Lily glanced at Marius and her father; the former shrugged, and began to follow Gograk. The rest followed suit, and soon they found themselves in a large, comfortable room with a giant hearth and matching fire along one wall, and plush couches and lounges all around the room. Gograk was nowhere to be seen, so she slunk up to the fire and held her hands to it.

The Orc soon returned, bearing towels. Once everyone had one and was drying off before the fire, he stood by a small wooden door and asked, "Would anyone care for refreshments?"

"Water, if you please," Louis requested courteously. Gograk nodded and waited another moment before slipping through the little door.

"I think the only place I've seen finer and grander—and with better serving," Marius said, sounding pleased, "is the Imperial Palace. Lady Ida has a very beautiful home."

Lily ran her hands along a hand-carved mantle above the fireplace. It was dark wood, engraved with blossoms and branches. "I really can't see Jake living in a place like this…"

Louis chuckled and made himself comfortable on a dark blue velvet couch as he ran a thick towel over his hair. The gingery locks were thinning, and streaked with grey. "Hm, really? Somehow I see him wearing silk breeches, heeled shoes and a gilded tunic perfectly," he chortled.

Lily grimaced at the image, and even Marius allowed a little laugh. Lucrezia remained silent.

Louis seemed to have misread Lily's expression. His smile flattened, his brows tilted up, and he asked worriedly, "Are you all right, dear? Is your wound paining you again?"

"I'm sure Lady Ida has access to Cheydinhal's finest doctors if it is," Marius quickly added, looking almost as scared as Louis.

Lily managed a weak smile. "No, I'm okay, for now."

Louis didn't look convinced. "Well, if you say so… oh, Lily, I was so scared when that churl came outside to get us. The last thing we expected as a Daedric creature to tell us you'd been stabbed…"

"Where in Tamriel did the devil come from?" Marius asked, confused. "That's something I don't think any of us know yet. Do you take to hiding Daedra in your bodice, Lily?"

Lily giggled. "Sorry, I haven't, Marius. I actually don't know what happened at that part…"

Lucrezia made a soft noise that could be interpreted as a laugh. "You tried to heal yourself. You summoned a churl instead. Your brain must've been scrambled after all the fuss."

There was a click at the far wall, and Lily looked over just as the steward returned, bearing a cart filled with hot and cold drinks, and what looked like thousands of tiny sandwiches and cakes. So much for just wanting water.

"Never liked wizardry much myself," he said, wheeling the cart into the centre of the room. "One never knows what somebody is capable of."

"That's a little bold, don't you think?" Marius asked suspiciously. Behind him, Louis and Lucrezia practically pounced onto the little sandwiches.

Gograk smiled, showing off more of his long teeth. "Sir, I am employed by Lady Ida Flaccus. _Everyone _here is a little bold, especially the lady."

"Touché," Louis said through a mouthful of sandwich. "Do you know how long she and Jacob will be?"

The steward shook his head. "I can imagine they'll take some time. I heard the meeting in the Imperial City wasn't exactly a smooth process. Until then, you are welcome to browse the collection of books on the shelf, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Lily settled herself comfortably on a blood red chaise longue near the fire. From her vantage point, she could see her companions clearly—Louis, happily pouring himself some steamy dark beverage; Marius, sighing heavily as he unbuckled his sword to get comfortable; Lucrezia, licking her paws and swiping them over her face to clean the bread off her whiskers.

Her eyes lingered on the Khajiit for a moment longer. Lucrezia was little; smaller than Lily, and probably the smallest full-grown Khajiit Lily had ever met. She seemed nice, but there was just something…

Lily shook her head and curled up on the chaise. Her suspicions could wait. She was sure Jake would tell her anything—or at least, nearly anything—she needed to know once he was finished up with his mother.

And until then, she was going to sleep.

—

Jake silently followed his mother down long, wide hallways adorned with embroidered drapes. He had seen them all before. When Jacob the Fifth had left for the Imperial City, all he took with him was his money, his belongings, and his sons. Ida got everything else—house, furniture, social status. He didn't remember this house much, since he was so young when he left, but he had fragments of recollection, and his father had old paintings of the family posed in different rooms of this house hidden away in the attic of the Imperial City manor, so Jake had seen them when he went exploring in his youth.

Ida turned toward a large wooden door, and he quietly followed, hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. Looking up, he took a moment to gaze at the door. He remembered it. He remembered sneaking through it to hide in this room, in the parlour, when his father had been hunting him down for a pony-riding lesson.

Jake grimaced and glowered at the pitiful memory. He had been two, nearly three when he left this house. That was one of his only memories of the place, and it was awful. Of horses, of all things.

Ida went through the door. Inside, Gograk the steward was standing by the door to the kitchens, Marius Rotarius had removed his armour and was seated before a bookcase, across from Louis—they were discussing some book or another, from the sounds of things—Lucrezia was crouched before the fire, her golden fur standing on end as it dried, and Lily was sleeping on a chaise, hair tumbled around her face and her clothes skewed. Jake's mouth twitched upwards at one end. So ungraceful.

Marius bowed when Ida entered. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, my lady."

Jake scowled as his mother uttered a soft laugh and smiled royally. "Thank you, Marius. Is everyone comfortable?"

"Perfectly, ma'am," Louis Laroque spoke up.

Jake snuck past his mother's voluminous skirts and slipped to the floor beside Lucrezia. The little Khajiit was hunched over, licking the back of her paw and rubbing it over her face. The water was all gone from her fur; it puffed out crazily, heated from the fire.

He absently reached up and scratched behind her ear. Lucrezia instantly stopped cleaning her face and began to purr softly, contentedly. "How're things?" he asked quietly.

She managed to control herself to answer, "Lily passed out right away. Her father's been gorging himself since the food was brought in. The Legionnaire is interested in the books. That's it."

"And how is Lil? Did she complain at all about her cut?"

Lucrezia shook her head and resumed her purring.

"You can leave whenever you want," Jake murmured, watching as his mother, Louis and Marius started talking about something. It sounded like the government. Boring. "I got permission for me and Lil to stay here. The rest are her esteemed guests. That's her nice way of putting it that she loves being known as the hostess of Cheydinhal County, and nothing more."

The Khajiit cracked open one amber eye. "And how'd your talk with your mother go?"

"Doesn't matter."

Lucrezia flattened her ears, though in a nonthreatening way. Jake knew that look from his time spent with Dar'vaba; she was confused, but she wouldn't question him further. They didn't know each other well enough for that.

Jake dropped his hand into his lap. "Sorry, Luke. But you know I've only trusted you this far because of the note. Otherwise, you'd be dead."

Her ears twitched. "So would you."

He smiled the slightest bit. "Survival of the fittest."

Lucrezia's eyes widened somewhat, and her whiskers moved as her feline lips curved into a smirk. "Khajiiti are much more fit than Imperials, Jake. I should go, since I am already in Cheydinhal." She started to stand, but Jake made sure she caught the glare he sent her way. Lucrezia sighed and her tail grazed the ground agitatedly. "I'm sorry, but you know what I do. And you read the note—I'll disobey my family because of what we have. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," he murmured, looking around to make sure nobody was watching them. "I'm more concerned about Vaba."

Lucrezia nodded, but said nothing.

"You'd better go talk to my mother before you leave. She'd be so hurt if you didn't comment on her amazing hostessness before you peaced outta here."

"Farewell for now, Jake."

He flicked his fingers at her. "See ya, Luke."

He watched in silence as the Khajiit slunk quietly across the room and waited patiently for Ida and Marius to stop agreeing about the wonderful ruling power of the Elder Council (from what Jake gathered, by tuning in and out of the conversation, Louis supported the Empire more than Ocato and the Elder Council). Ida glanced over Lucrezia's way; the cat graciously thanked her for her hospitality, but regrettably, she had to leave.

Jake grimaced at her impeccable performance at nobility. It was all so disgusting.

Absently, he picked up a log from a bucket by the hearth and tossed it into the fire. The flames instantly licked at the dry bark and crackled and popped happily, noisily. With a sigh, he pulled off the damp coat Louis had leant him. The Breton was a few sizes smaller than the Imperial, and the coat had been a tight fit, but he was grateful nonetheless. He tossed it onto the hearth to dry, and was left with a perfect view of the scars on his arms. The burn marks around his wrists from his time in Oblivion, scarred up from picking and rubbing during his imprisonment in the Imperial City; the self-inflected dagger slices down his arms. Jake's mouth twisted up at the sight of them. There wasn't much left of him that wasn't scarred.

By the bookcases, he could hear Ida offering Marius and Louis her home for the next few days, if they wanted to recover from their journey. Marius refused; he had to get back to the Imperial City as soon as he could, as he had taken off enough time already. But Louis agreed, so long as his daughter and her fiancé were given proper medical attention, which, of course, Ida could readily provide…

Jake felt a shudder rumble through him. Ugh. Fiancé. That had to be one of the scariest words in existence. It was up there with pregnant, marriage, and "Halt, by the name of the Emperor!"

"Ma'am," Gograk gro-Bol announced loudly, "the dinner will be prepared within the hour."

"Wonderful. Thank you, Gograk."

There was movement on the chaise in front of him. The Orc's booming voice must have woken Lily. She stirred, mumbling something under her breath, and her head lifted a moment later, long locks of wavy copper hair covering her face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Nm-ph-whm?"

"You're right, I am a handsome devil." Jake scooted toward her as she awkwardly brushed her hair from her face with her fingers. "How was your sleep?"

She blinked owlishly, eyes sleepy and foggy blue beneath orange lashes. "Short," she grumbled, leaning over the edge of the chaise to see him. "What's going on?"

"You've been taken captive by Sheogorath, and this room is his prison—the torture is being really tired all the time, and you can't stay awake to keep civil conversation with the Mad God," Jake explained curtly. "It's not as bad as something Mehrunes Dagon might think up, but hey, the guy's insane."

"Idiot," she scoffed. Lily managed to sit up and lean back on the chaise. Slowly, she surveyed the room. While she was occupied doing that, Jake took a moment to admire her. Even pale from her injury, she was beautiful—the little brown freckles stood boldly on her nose and cheeks when she was paper white. Her hair was tangled and dirty, and looked like it need a desperate washing, but it was still a beautiful shade of red. And her eyes, bloodshot and puffy, were that crystalline blue he fell in love with.

Jake jerked backwards and instantly smacked his head on the stone hearth. Pain radiated out from his head, and he angrily shouted, "_Fuck!_"

All conversation in the room immediately stopped, and five pairs of eyes moved onto him.

He didn't even care. Lily was used to his outbursts, though she still flushed crimson, probably in embarrassment because of his mother's presence. Marius scowled. Louis cringed. Ida's expression remained flat. And for that, he was only a little humiliated. He knew he inherited his father's temper and angry attitude, and Ida was probably going to soon learn that.

Blushing furiously, Lily slipped down beside him and lightly touched his head. Warmth completely dissimilar to the heat of the fire behind him began to touch his skull, and he relaxed. She was using a healing spell on him. "Are you all right?" she whispered, lightly stroking the back of his head.

Jake nodded and pushed her hand away. "I'm fine," he muttered, and she backed off, smart enough to leave him alone. His lips twisted; at least she knew to give him space when he got into one of his moods. And he was about to fall headfirst into one right then. Hitting his head was just the catalyst.

"Are you going to be okay, Jake?" Ida asked from across the room. It didn't surprise him at all that she didn't really look genuinely concerned.

"Just dandy, Mum," he replied, voice thick with sarcasm.

Oh, hell, his eyes were watering. He viciously rubbed the back of his hand across his eyelids, forcing the moisture away. What a great start to his new life with a fiancée and a mother.

Shutting his eyes, he leaned back and silently cursed the gods, even though he didn't believe in a single one of them—except Daedric Princes, since they made it obvious they existed. He'd been given a shithole life that took nearly thirty years to get on track. Opening his eyes so he was staring at the high, beamed ceiling, he mumbled, "So what in Oblivion did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

"You talking to yourself, Jake?"

"Don't worry about it, Lil."

She was quiet. Then she murmured, "Oh, okay," and remained quiet.

He absently drummed his fingers on the edge of the hearth. So he had succeeded in giving himself a killer headache that rivalled some of his worst hangovers, he had pissed off his mother during their heart-to-heart, he was about to kickstart his life as a noble, and he hurt the feelings of his little priestess.

With a groan, he scowled at the ceiling. "Great start, fucker."


	31. A tango with death

After dinner the first night, Lily and Jake were shown to the room they would be sharing, where their belongings had already been moved from the Cheydinhal stables. She had instantly fallen asleep. The gods only knew where he ran off too; all she knew was that he came back sometime in the middle of the night, smelling strongly of brandy and smoke.

And in the morning, she woke up alone.

Staring at the fine paper stuck to the wall of the guest bedroom, Lily stifled a yawn and tried to decide what to do with her day. She could hunt down Jake. If she succeeded in that, she could demand to know what he and his mother talked about the night before. But he was hard to find when he didn't want to be found, so that was kind of out of the question.

She could talk to her father. But he would just whine about her wound and try to plan her marriage and start asking for grandchildren.

Nope, not that either.

Lady Ida? Her life, while undoubtedly exciting, wasn't the kind of thing Lily wanted to get tangled up with. Though, she _would _be living with the noblewoman until she and Jake could support themselves.

Oh, Akatosh, life was so complicated.

She perked up, letting her eyes scan the room as she thought. Religious symbols littered the walls in a fashionable way, matching colours and patterns. Probably what had made her think of Akatosh.

Well, she could go to the chapel, couldn't she? It wasn't Akatosh's, but a god is a god, and they're all pretty good.

Perfect. She had something to do. But first, she wanted to explore the house. At dinner the previous night, Lady Ida had told her and Jake that her home was their home, for as long as they needed. She cordially invited them to wander as they pleased, read whatever they wanted, converse with the servants, and act as though they lived there.

Which they likely would be for the next several months.

All right, so her day was planned. Just as Lily reached over her body and was about to pull the heavy, luxurious quilts off her, there was a short knock at the door to the room. Before she could even think to answer, it burst open, making her scream, and three or four men marched in, each carrying heavy leather bags. Lady Ida and Gograk trotted in after them, both dressed in magnificence, as usual.

Lily snatched up the blankets, covering herself up to her shoulders with them. "What's going on?" she squeaked.

It was three men, she realized, after the kerfuffle died down. A brown-haired Altmer, a little, round Breton, and skinny, gaunt Imperial placed their bags at the foot of the bed and began to work. The Altmer removed scrolls and unrolled them, his lips moving as he muttered under his breath. The Breton started conjuring spells between his hands, making bright colours for split seconds. The Imperial played with glass bottles and vials: potions.

"What's going on?" Lily asked again, with more force this time.

"Your father requested that I get you professional medical help," Lady Ida explained coolly. She stood just in front of her steward, watching the men work. "These are the finest healers in County Cheydinhal. The count recommended them to me once. You are in good hands, my dear."

Lily grimaced and watched the mages. This would be interesting.

"Where's Jake?" Ida asked after a few moments.

"I have no idea. He hasn't been here all day."

Ida made a noise, but asked no more questions. In fact, she then began to simply state things. "To celebrate my estranged son and future daughter-in-law's arrangement, I have begun preparations for a ball tomorrow night. All of County Cheydinhal is invited, of course, and nobles from the other counties and the Imperial City. Even a few friends of mine from Morrowind are on their way. I'm afraid the Elder Council can't come, because of my former husband's influence, but High Chancellor Ocato sent me a letter professing his deepest apologies."

Lily simply looked at her. She couldn't do anything else.

The Altmer mage began to chant, reading off a scroll, and the Breton moved around the bed to move Lily's blankets down to unveil her wound. The Imperial gently tipped a cup of some smoky potion into her mouth, and she choked it down.

"If my son ever shows himself again, I will have him healed and the both of you made proper for the celebration. No need to worry yourself about it; I have all the preparations under control." Ida smiled somewhat. "Are you feeling any better?"

This seemed to be directed at the mages, not Lily, for the Breton spoke up in a soft, High Rock accent, "The wound has festered some, though the inexpert healing has kept away most of the disease that could have settled. It should be fixed within the hour."

Ida clapped her hands together. "Perfect. I'll leave you to finish up here, and continue with preparations." With that, she turned and left, with Gograk on her heels.

The three mages finished poking and prodding her about ten minutes later. Once full of disgusting potion and tingly with Magicka, Lily firmly told them that she was feeling fine, and if their handiwork hadn't fixed the job, surely she could finish it herself. With that, they scuttled out, heads bowed as they left.

Spent from the examination, she flopped back on her pile of pillows and stuck out her tongue, her mouth hanging open. Maybe airing out would ward off the awful taste left in her mouth from the potions. It felt as though her throat had been coated in Blackwood slime.

She had slept only in her big white shirt, and when the mages came, they had unbuttoned it to see her wound. Feeling utterly exposed, she pulled up the blankets and decided that she would be lazy for a little bit longer. The chapel and exploration could wait a bit.

She managed to close her eyes and relax her breathing, feeling the healing take place in her abdomen. However, as soon as she started to feel sleep overcome her once again, the door creaked open, as if whomever was breaking in was trying to be as sneaky as possible.

Lily didn't bother open her eyes. She knew who it was.

He was very quiet as he moved. She only knew he was there because she had unconsciously trained herself to listen for him since becoming actively involved in his life. The mattress shifted as he sat down opposite her. It barely moved under his weight. Gods, he was so skinny. He had barely eaten at dinner. Probably not used to the rich food… or any food at all.

Lily tried not to freeze up as his hand groped beneath the blankets and grazed her leg. Then travelled up her body, coming to a comfortable rest near her navel, as if it simply belonged there. He curled up behind her, pressing his forehead into the back of her neck. He nuzzled her for a moment, and she smiled despite her attempts to fake sleep. He was so cute when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

His face moved, and she felt something wet on her skin. A jolt of terror shot through her—was she hurt?

Then she came to the more obvious, rational conclusion: he was crying.

Fake sleep could wait. Lily rolled over to face him, but was stopped when he gently tugged on her hair and buried his face in it.

"Jake, what's wrong?" she asked.

"I just really like the smell of your hair," he coughed.

Lily cringed. "I haven't washed it in weeks. I feel bad for you." She tugged her hair from his grasp and instantly felt her heart melt. Jake was cuddled up behind her, eyes wide and watery, making the deep brown look like melted chocolate. "Now, what's actually wrong, Jake? You can talk to me, really."

"Because I'm obliged, as your fiancé?"

The corner of her mouth curled up. "Well, sure. But also because I'm a priestess. I know you don't believe in the Nine, but when I was working in Kvatch, so many people would come in just to talk to one of us. To Ilav, or Oleta, or me, or… or Martin…"

"So is this confession?"

"Do you have to make a joke out of everything?"

"Humour is a great defense mechanism."

Lily stayed silent. Jake wiggled his nose like a rabbit and more tears slipped down his stubbled cheeks.

He rolled onto his back and crossed his hands over his chest, like a stone effigy. "O Holy Father Akatosh, forgive me, for I am a sinner against your most awesome word."

Lily lifted her lip in disgust, but either he didn't care, or he didn't notice.

"I fear I am a coward, Aka—"

"All right, could you address _me _and not him? Thanks."

"Okay. Lil, I spent the night drinking in a bad part of town. I met some bad people. I almost agreed to a rail of moon sugar. I wanted to come back here to you, and, well—"

He smirked, and Lily interrupted, "Please, the censored version."

"Keep the whole manor awake?"

"Okay. Continue."

"I didn't. Duh. So instead I got really shitfaced and came back here, was interrogated by some of my mother's night servants, had to find my way through the house in the dark, unassisted…" He sighed heavily and wiped his eyes. "And that's how I found out she's having an affair with her steward."

"What?" Lily squeaked, jumping back.

"Apparently Orcs are loud in the sack. And so's my mum." He shuddered, and Lily lightly patted his hand in consolation. "So I found my way back here, completely unhorny after hearing them, and slept for about three hours before leaving again. I went to the attic. There're carvings all over the walls. And I found an old dagger, too. I think it was mine, because all the carvings were funny drawings of nonsense, and underneath one it says… now what was it? Jakod."

Lily snorted and her eyebrows rose into her hair. "Jakod?"

"Exchange the 'k' for a 'c' and the 'd' for a 'b', and you've got Jacob. Something a kid would write before they could really spell. I fell asleep up there for a bit. Choked on some spiderwebs when I left. Now I'm here."

"Oh. Well, that doesn't explain all this." She gestured to the silver tracks running down his cheeks.

"I just got to thinking. You know what that does to me."

Lily absently buttoned up the front of her shirt, and tried to ignore the pout on Jake's face as he watched her. "Thinking about what?"

A few more blobs of wetness squeezed between his lashes, and he quickly wiped thema way. "Earlier, when I hit my head and raged, it was because I'd just… I dunno, admitted something to myself? I'm just… real lucky I got you, Lil. I—"

Lily shook her head and tapped his mouth with one finger. "Don't worry about it, Jake. I know how you feel. You don't need to say it if it makes you uncomfortable."

He smiled up at her. "But you know?"

"I know." They sat in a companionable silence for several minutes after her words were uttered. Jake simply curled up beside her, his head in her lap, and Lily stroked his hair, thinking. The throbbing pain she had grown accustomed to in the last few weeks was nearly gone from her wound, she noticed. Those mages must have known what they were doing.

"Oh, your mother came by with healers," she mentioned. "I'm all better now, or at least nearly there. You should find her and see about your nose. The clots are getting gross."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get around to it."

Lily kept to herself the information about Lady Ida's upcoming ball. She would much rather see Jake's look of surprise when he had to get dressed up the following evening.

"Soon, please. I don't want to wake up some morning with some old nose blood stuck in my hair." Lily slid off the bed and wandered to one of the large, elaborate wardrobes where her things had been put the night before. "I'm going to wander around town. If you feel like joining in, have at 'er. I don't recommend it, though. You know, this being Cheydinhal and all."

She could feel his eyes on her as she opened the wardrobe doors and stared blankly at the dresses, skirts and gowns hanging inside. "I'm going to sleep off my hangover. I can't promise I'll stick around much after that. Like you said, this is Cheydinhal. I'm a dead man if I stay here too long."

"Go where the wind takes you," she said, and felt a pang of hurt when she remembered that she had heard Baran use the same phrase before he had vanished. She wanted him and Marian back from their travels. She missed them.

"Be careful."

"You too." Lily chose a simple green cotton dress, thinking that she couldn't explore Cheydinhal looking like a long-haired man, since she was staying with Lady Ida Flaccus. After struggling into the outfit, stepping into her regular soft-soled leather boots, tying on a long, thick wool cloak, and braiding her hair, Lily checked to see how Jake was doing—he had fallen silent, and subsequently fallen asleep—before leaving the room.

She passed a few servants as she wound through the twisting hallways. They bobbed their heads in greeting as she passed, but none spoke. Maybe it would have been easier if they did. Maybe she wouldn't be lost in this castle of a house.

After several minutes of confusion, she had to stop and lean her hand against a wall to steady herself. Nausea swam before her eyes, making her vision blurry and unreliable to keep searching for the exit. Sticking her tongue out against the bubbles of sickness gurgling in her stomach, she shut her eyes and counted to ten, trying to keep perfectly still.

Once the nausea was banished, Lily straightened and rubbed her eyes. That was very strange.

Carefully, she shook her head, and found that she was mostly all right. Frowning, she continued on her way, somewhat recognizing the part of the manor she was in. What a bizarre episode to start her day. Hopefully this wasn't a side effect to the mages' healing.

By the time she found the main entrance, she felt fine once again. When she opened the front door, a nicely-dressed servant smiled and bowed to her, murmuring, "Good morning, milady," before shutting the door and standing quietly at his post.

When he moved, Lily heard chainmail clink beneath his clothes, and he leaned on a long silver spear. Lady Ida had her home decently protected, at least.

It was still Sun's Dawn, so a layer of snow coated grass and roofs—though the cobbled streets were slick with slush from constant traffic—but the day already promised to be a beautiful one. There were few clouds in the sky, though a dark and menacing bundle of grey fluff floated near the Jerall Mountains to the north. The sun was a pale brightness; the sky a pretty, watery blue. It was cold and crisp, however; Lily could see her breath as she exhaled.

Pulling her thick cloak tighter around herself, Lily stood on the porch of the manor and looked around. Two soldiers were patrolling together nearby, chatting about something she couldn't hear. Lady Ida's neighbour, a wealthy fellow who didn't look as though he hired servants, was pulling weeds from the garden in the front of his house. The rich scent of food wafted toward her on the wind from the direction of one of Cheydinhal's inns.

Lily climbed down the stairs and began to wander. It really was a beautiful city, despite the boarded up house on the other side of town. The river and its gentle rushing was music to her ears, and the purple of the roofs made it seem whimsical and fun. She'd heard that the city was built in the style of nearby Morrowind, and the count himself was a Dark Elf. Maybe Morrowind was beautiful like this as well.

She wandered down the street, avoiding puddles of slush and dirt. A soldier greeted her as she passed, and she smiled in return. Just how many people already knew that Lady Ida had taken in guests? Not just any guests, too—her firstborn son and his fiancée?

Everybody who was anybody in Cheydinhal probably knew.

This idea was confirmed when she walked through a village square of sorts, and a middle-aged Imperial woman in a matching green tunic and silver skirt approached her.

"You are Lily Laroque, unless I am mistaken? Guest to Lady Ida Flaccus?" the Imperial asked without preamble.

Lily stopped walking in surprise. "Uh, yes, I am. Who are you?"

"Naspia Cosma, steward to Count Cheydinhal. His Highness wishes to meet you, as he has heard much about your adventures with the Champion of Cyrodiil." The Imperial spoke curtly. Lily sighed inwardly; this woman clearly didn't want to be here. "As he has pressing matters to attend to, I assure you this meeting will be quick."

"Well, all right." Instinct told her to be wary of everybody she met in Cheydinhal, only because of the abandoned house that hid the sneakiest assassins in Tamriel. While she doubted this middle-aged, muscular Imperial woman was part of the Dark Brotherhood, she couldn't let her guard down.

Lily's hand moved beneath her cloak and rested comfortably on the hilt of the steel dagger at her hip, and her fingers tingled with magic. If anything happened, she would be prepared.

In silence, she followed Naspia Cosma toward the castle where the count resided. The walk seemed to take entirely too long, and not long enough. The quiet between them was deafening, but she found she didn't have enough time to prepare what she was going to say to the count. After all, the only one she had ever met was Count Kvatch, and that was in the presence of Ilav and Martin, so she didn't have to say much.

When they arrived at the castle, she paid little attention to the glamorous decorations. Cosma made a beeline for the throne room, and therefore, so did Lily.

The Dark Elf count was seated in his throne when they entered. His lined face was turned up to see a very tall Altmer fellow who he was speaking to. At the entrance of the two women, however, the two immediately ceased their conversation and faced them.

"Ah, you're back, Naspia. Good." The count smiled, somewhat warmly, and Naspia bowed deeply. Lily tilted her head in a pathetic imitation. As the Altmer was about to turn and leave, the count clucked his tongue and said, "You may stay, Varlais. I don't mind."

"Of course." The High Elf had beautiful, clear golden skin, luminous brown eyes and pale blonde hair, almost white, that was pulled up into a high ponytail. He wore rich crimson robes and a smoothly-carved white staff was slung over his back. A mage for sure.

The steward shuffled off to the side as the count of Cheydinhal stood. "I'm Andel Indarys, County Cheydinhal," he announced, holding out his arms. "You must be Lily Laroque."

"I am. A pleasure, my lord," she said, bowing deeply this time.

The count sat once more and a strange smile crossed his face. The Altmer continued to stand impassively at his side. "So, Lady Ida tells me that you're going to marry her oldest son from that bastard, Jacob."

"I am, sir." The sadistic part of her took pleasure in knowing even Count Cheydinhal didn't like Jacob Bercarius the Fifth.

"Since when?"

"The beginning of the Fourth Era, sir. It was really a spontaneity thing," she added with a wink.

Indarys laughed and smiled, truly warmly this time. "I see. I would expect nothing less from a Bercarius and the woman who helped the Champion of Cyrodiil defeat Mehrunes Dagon."

Lily coloured at being honoured by the count of Cheydinhal. She never would've thought people would give her such praise in her small role in sending Dagon back to Oblivion. It had been Martin entirely when it came to the end… though since he couldn't be worshipped and showered with praise in the same way as a human, Baran took the cake. Marian deserved some praise too, Lily thought.

"You flatter me, sir."

He waved a hand of dismissal. "Lady Laroque, this is a friend of mine, and Warlock in the Mages Guild, Varlais. He's written several books for the guild, and he's travelled the world for them."

The Altmer smiled awkwardly at this grand introduction. Lily got the distinct feeling he didn't like being associated with so many important deeds.

But he could man up! This was a living, breathing, _high-ranking_ member of the Mages Guild she was talking to!

It took all of her energy not to let her jaw drop to the floor.

"I'm _honoured _to meet you, Warlock," she said, gawking at him. Wow. He had to know the Archmage and the entire Council of Mages!

Indarys barked with laughter, and a slight rosiness formed on Varlais' golden cheeks. "She's more excited to meet you than me, Varlais, and I'm a count!"

Lily smiled, embarrassed, but the count didn't seem to mind this at all.

Turning to his more magical guest, the count asked, "Did the Lady Flaccus invite you to her party tomorrow night, Varlais?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid I can't attend." Rather than sound proud and haughty, this High Elf had a pleasant, refined accent. Probably from being in the Mages Guild, Lily thought. "Guild business is taking me back to Morrowind."

"What, they hadn't enough of you over there during the Nerevarine?"

"I guess not. I had actually better leave soon. I'll come again sometime hopefully soon, Andel." The High Elf stepped off the pedestal around the count's throne, and gave Lily a slight bow. "It's been a pleasure, my lady." With that, he straightened and started to walk away before vanishing with a pop.

Lily jumped, startled, and the count chuckled. "Morrowind magic. Teleportation. It isn't widely accepted here in Cyrodiil, same with levitation."

"Or else an attacker could just jump city walls," she mentioned distractedly.

"Indeed. It would rather defeat the purpose of said city walls."

"My lord," the steward murmured, approaching them. "Your son is here regarding the Champion's assistance with the Oblivion Gate he helped close. He wishes to speak with you now."

"Ah, of course, send him in. Sorry to cut this short, Lady Laroque. I'll speak with you more tomorrow night?" Though it sounded like a suggestion, she knew she would be foolish to turn down the count of Cheydinhal.

Bowing, Lily said, "Of course, sir. Until then."

She turned and started to walk back toward the entrance to the castle just as a puffy Dark Elf—who bore a resemblance to the count—marched toward the throne room. He pushed rudely past her, nearly shoving her into a spear-wielding guard. Glowering back at the count's ridiculous son, Lily left Castle Cheydinhal.

After all, there was still some exploring to do.

—

By the time she returned to Lady Ida's home, it was nearing dinner. Everyone was waiting for her when she stumbled, red-faced and beaming, into the dining hall. Her father glowered angrily at her, and even Jake looked shocked. Lady Ida graciously accepted Lily's excuse for being late, as she agreed that Cheydinhal was so interesting a city to get lost in.

As the servants brought out tremendous plates of roast duck and similar fancy dishes, Lily excitedly explained, "The count's steward found me when I was wandering Cheydinhal today, and I had an audience with him! I've heard awful things about him, but he was quite nice, I thought. His son was a bit of a fetcher though."

Louis choked on his food. Ida's expression soured. Jake covered a laughing fit with a coughing fit into his napkin.

Lily realized, a little too late, that she shouldn't curse at the table of a noble.

"Um… yes, anyways, the count had a friend there, a mage called Varlais." Lily rolled the strange name over her tongue and wondered what language it had originated from. She didn't recognize it at all.

Ida nodded slowly, recovering from Lily's poor manners. "Ah, Varlais. It's most regrettable he can't come tomorrow night, but he says he has pressing matters in Morrowind to deal with, so I suppose I can forgive it. The Mages Guild sends him all over the place. High Rock, Morrowind, Skyrim, Summerset Isle…"

"Oh? I've always wanted to go to High Rock. My wife was from there, and—" Louis was cut off by a squawk of surprise from Jake. Everyone looked over just as a blood clot in his nose loosened and landed with a splat in his cup, and blood began to gush from the nostril.

Lily grimaced and watched as Louis blanched and Lady Ida groaned and leaned back in her chair in a particularly unladylike way. Gograk gro-Bol was shouting for the servants to find the healers immediately, and suddenly the room was frenzied.

They'd never have normal dinners.

—

Staring in an old, speckled mirror at her continually narrowing waist, Lily gasped shortly, "Am—I—supposed—to—breathe?"

"Of course not." Lady Ida watched from a cushioned chair, her brown eyes narrowed. "Tighter, Amelie."

The maidservant lacing up Lily's corset glanced toward her lady, nodded, then ruthlessly yanked on the laces of the bone corset constricting Lily's midriff. As Lily's panting increased in speed and shortness, Ida stood and wandered to the large, open closet of the dressing room.

"I thought red would be an appropriate colour," she said as she browsed the many rich gowns inside, "as it is very royal and very fitting of this family, but I remembered you have orange hair. Purple, perhaps, or blue. Blue," she decided, ignoring Lily's gasping, "it would be the most fitting colour on you. With… black shoes, I think, and for your hair… Amelie, you're finished with that."

The Breton maid quickly finished tying the corset. "Of course, ma'am."

"Go to my room and get my jewellery box. Oh, and the curling tongs."

Lily tried to sigh, but her ribs wouldn't move far enough. Instead, she collapsed in a chair near the mirror, feeling light-headed. "You're—going to curl—my hair?"

"Amelie is. You'll look beautiful, dear, don't worry. I'll not make you play dress-up much more after this. On your wedding day, of course," she said with a dreamy sigh, "but I won't force you to anything else."

"You've—already got it planned?" Lily's breathing was calming down, becoming less erratic. Probably a good sign.

Amelie soon returned with what Ida had asked for and instantly thrust the curling tongs in the fire. Ida opened the jewellery box and began to sift through it.

"Oh, the basics. What you and Jake will wear, who will attend, the feast, the decorations…"

"Can I pick the place?" Lily requested, a little pitifully.

Ida glanced her way, a silver comb embedded with a sapphire in her hand. "Yes. Did you have a venue in mind?"

Lily shut her eyes as Amelie began to apply makeup. "The Temple of the One, in the Imperial City. Beneath the dragon statue."

"Odd, but all right, if it's what you wish. Amelie, finish up with the makeup to go accordingly with this gown. When her hair is curled, send for me. I'll be in Jake's room." Ida bowed shortly and left the room as her maid murmured affirmatively.

Lily decided she rather missed Ida's company after the lady left. Amelie sat in perfect silence as she finished brushing on kohl and rouge. Once she plucked the curling tongs from the fire and began to play with Lily's hair, she merely began to hum a jaunty tune under her breath. Not one for conversing, clearly.

So Lily sat in silence as she watched her transformation. The rouge and kohl made her eyelids look deep and somehow enhanced the colour of her eyes. By the time Amelie was done with her hair, it was all in ringlet curles and piled majestically atop her head with a few pieces hanging down.

"Please stand, milady," the little Breton requested, getting up from the stool behind Lily. As the redhead did as she was told, Amelie scurried to the bed, where she picked up a midnight blue, silk gown with voluptuous skirts, long, slim sleeves, and a low v cut into the neck. After Lily was struggled inside and forced the black heeled shoes on her feet, Amelie silently left the room.

Left alone, Lily viciously kicked off the shoes and stepped into her comfortable leather boots. The dress was long enough that nobody would know the difference, unless they were purposefully scanning everybody's footwear.

As she waited for Amelie to return with Lady Ida, Lily wandered over to the mirrow, struggling to manoeuvre in the thick skirts of the dress. Layers upon layers of petticoats were already making her legs sweat.

But it was worth it, she thought as she admired her reflection in the mirror. The light of the fire caught subtle hues in the dark blue silk of the dress and made them shine. It fit her like a glove because of tight laces at the back. With her curled hair and makeup, she thought she rather looked like a princess. She had never dressed this grandly before in her life.

With a smug smirk, she decided that just for this moment, she rivalled Marian's beauty.

Biting her lip and hearing footsteps approach, she whispered, "Just for this moment." To think, only hours before, she had been a farmhand wannabe mage turned priestess turned nomad. How quickly things could change.

A small sigh interrupted her thoughts. Peering into the mirror, she could see Lady Ida and her maid standing behind her. Ida looked in awe.

"You are absolutely stunning, my dear. You will truly be the belle of the ball. Now…" Ida picked up the silver comb and stepped over to Lily. "I noticed the only piece of jewellery you ever wear is that ring my son gave to you. How could he afford it?" she muttered to herself. Lily choked back a laugh. "Well, no matter. This was Jake's grandmother's comb. She gave it to me after I married her son, as an offering between two families. She was a wonderful woman, despite the monster she birthed. May the Son Arkay let her soul rest."

Lily stood in silence as Ida gently tucked the comb into her curls. Smiling, the lady murmured, "Perfect."

"Can I see Jake now?"

"Of course. Amelie…"

The maidservant vanished for a few moments, and before long, she returned with a well-groomed scoundrel in tow. Jake wasn't dressed as marvellously as his fiancée was, but it was still the most beautiful sight Lily had ever seen. Dove grey trousers and black boots with a blue silk tunic nearly matching her gown, embroidered with silver; somebody had removed his stubble and his nose had finally been fixed, though there was still a crooked bump from the original break. He looked like he was—a noble, but with the scars of his youth still visible on his face and hands.

Lily realized, several moments after he arrived, that he was gawking at her just as she was at him.

Before they could say anything, however, the steward Gograk suddenly stepped into the room. "My lady, guests have arrived," he announced, but a frown had settled on his thick, prominent brow.

Ida waved a graceful hand. "Very well, Gograk. Send them into the ballroom."

"Yes, ma'am. However, Magnus said that we should keep an eye on one of them."

Lily perked up at this. Maybe there'd be some excitement that night after all.

"Oh? Magnus has rarely been right on his first-glance judgements before. What makes this time so different?"

"I saw the guest myself, ma'am. You should trust Magnus this time."

A thick silence filled the room.

Lady Ida's sharp brown eyes narrowed as she gazed at her steward. "Tell me, Gograk."

"We could not tell if it was a man or a woman, or even what race they were. They wore a heavily hooded cloak and didn't take it off when I offered to dry it from the rain outside. They had a legitimate invitation, ma'am, but it is somebody to keep a watch on."

"You will do it then, Gograk. And have the guards in the room watch as well. Thank you for warning me."

When the steward left, with Amelie trailing along behind him, Lily asked, "And that's normal?"

Ida nodded and Jake rolled his eyes, pulling at the collar of his tunic. "Probably an assassination attempt on the count. Totally normal," he agreed.

His mother clucked her tongue. "It happens every time. One of these days, I just want one of my parties to be peaceful, with nobody trying to kill each other."

Eyes wide, Lily muttered to herself, "So this _is _normal."

Jake wandered up to her and held out a hand. "Party time?" he joked with a scowl, and Lily grinned.

Ida smiled slightly and said, "Come along then, children. Our guests won't wait forever."

—

"I'm bored."

"I warned you."

"I'm still bored."

"I know. Just think, I spent fourteen _years _doing this."

"Do we have to live with your mother for long?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"Let's run away."

Jake smirked and glanced her way, his eyes sparkling in the bright torchlight of the room. "In the middle of my mother's big-deal party? Okay. Where to?"

"Um, Morrowind's close. A little barbaric though, and I hear they don't like outlanders there. Skyrim?"

He shook his head. "Too many drunken Nords."

"High Rock? I know how much you _adore _magic." Lily grinned as Jake shuddered. "Or maybe Summerset Isle? That's just as good, right?"

"Black Marsh. Elsweyr. Valenwood. Hammerfell. Scratch that, not Valenwood," he corrected. "Wood Elves are too short. We'd stick out."

"I'd say Elsweyr, but we know how well you get along with Khajiiti. Black Marsh seems like a nice place. We've never had any run-ins with Argonians yet. Although," Lily added as an afterthought, "Black Marsh _is _a little far away. Morrowind?"

"Okay. Let's go to Morrowind."

Instead, they continued to sit on a couch in the ballroom, idly watching the guests laugh, dance and eat as they pranced about in their heeled slippers and jewel-encrusted clothing.

Lily saw Jake grimace and stick out his tongue in disgust. "I bet they don't do _this _in Morrowind."

Nodding, she said, "I bet they drink and fight and yell, all the while buying and selling slaves."

"Ah, what a great country."

Ceasing the joking for just a moment, Lily said, "I never want to go there."

"I love it there."

"That's because you're an immoral pig."

He grinned. "Yeah, I am."

For a few more moments, they sat in silence, merely observing. Lady Ida fluttered about like a smiling red butterfly, making friendly conversation with every person she passed, and dancing with those who asked. Louis followed her, being introduced as the father of the bride. He was warmly accepted by everyone they came across.

"Akatosh, I'm bored," Lily groaned, leaning on her hand.

"People are starting to notice," Jake remarked, seeing a few glares shot their way.

"I don't care. I'm sure everybody in Cheydinhal knows I grew up on a farm and lived as a priestess. Not really grand and fancy, hm? And the last six months of my life have been super excited, what with Baran and the Oblivion crisis and all. This," she waved around at all the elaborate decorations around them, "isn't a part of any of that."

"I know, I get it. I'm going to get more brandy."

Jake stood, and Lily held up her empty glass. "Top mine off?"

He sternly shook his head. "You were whining about feeling sick all day until you threw up. You don't get anymore booze to make you sicker." With that, he melted into the crowd. Lily was sure he was going to be intercepted by some noble or another two seconds after merging with the rest. Served him right for turning down her request for more brandy.

Lily was alone for no more than three minutes before she felt someone come up behind her couch. Expecting it to be the count or someone else looking for conversation and explanation of her time with the Champion of Cyrodiil, Lily sighed heavily.

She was very surprised when a fuzzy hand with a padded palm and claws for fingernails was gently placed over her mouth, and the tingling heat of Magicka emanated from it.

"Hold still a moment, hm?" It was the raspy voice of a male Khajiit, but, thank Akatosh, not Dar'vaba. She recognized it, though… only faintly…

She didn't know many Khajiiti. Dar'vaba, Lucrezia…

Lily turned after the hand moved off her mouth and caught sight of the mage. He wore a cloak with a thick, heavy hood drawn up over his furry head, but she instantly recognized him upon seeing the dark green robes he wore underneath.

M'raaj-Dar, mage of the Cheydinhal Dark Brotherhood sanctuary.

Narrowing her eyes—she had expected the Dark Brotherhood to try something, so she couldn't say she was really _surprised_—Lily hissed, "Why are you here?"

M'raaj-Dar was impassive as he gazed at her with cold, calculating eyes. "To succeed where others have failed many times. You have been lucky so far. That luck runs out now."

Lily glared hotly at him and tried to bring Magicka to her fingers—but nothing happened. She didn't feel the heat of destructive fire, or the prickles of electricy, or the cool rush of frost. The elements failed her. Trying again, Lily attempted to summon a dremora churl from Oblivion. Again, nothing happened.

Realization swooped over her at what he had done. "You silenced me," she spat venomously.

"Why fight a powerful enemy when we can disarm her with a simple spell?" he purred. Moving his hands discreetly, Lily saw he was casting another spell. His hands glowed briefly, and suddenly the stench of decay and death greeted her nostrils. "Your blood is not yet asked for by the Night Mother, but nobody will mind if you die in the meantime. It is no big loss to Tamriel."

Lily pulled her gaze from the cat and saw a headless corpse staggering into the crowd. As the first of the guests began to notice it—from the graveyard stench to the sight of flesh and clotted blood dripping to the floor—screams erupted throughout the ballroom. People began to push away as the zombie gained speed and started swiping with disease-ridden paws at those around it.

Lily simply sat, unable to do anything.

M'raaj-Dar calmly summoned three more zombies, followed by a minotaur and a lich. Shrieks of terror grew louder as the bull stampeded around the room, scaring people away from exits, and the lich tossed ghostly spells into the bulk of the people.

"Stop it!" Lily stood up, seeing Lady Ida and Louis cower in fear at the sight of the four zombies. They lurched around the room near each other, leaving trails of rot behind them as they groaned in an undead chorus. "There's no point. They'll just leave anyways."

"No." M'raaj-Dar watched calmly. Gograk gro-Bol had taken up a heavy gold candlestick and was valiantly defending his mistress. Those who could fight were trying. Guards and servants were rushing in to help. Guests were fleeing. "They cannot leave."

Lily wondered what he meant, but the first of those who had fled came rushing back inside moments later. A towering, burly Orc and slim Wood Elf woman followed, brandishing swords and arrows. At another exit stood an Argonian man and blonde Breton.

Members of the sanctuary, trapping everyone inside the ballroom of Lady Ida's home.

Lily gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt. They had actually thought it through this time, rather than jumping blindly into action. This time, Dar'vaba would truly get what he wanted.

Furious, Lily turned and swung a punch at M'raaj-Dar. Her fingers throbbed as they met their mark, and the Khajiit stumbled back, startled. Thanking Akatosh she thought to put on her leather boots instead of the heeled slippers, Lily hoisted up her skirts with one hand and pounced over the back of the couch, knocking back the cat. He growled ferociously, swiping at her with Magicka-imbued claws, but they only caught in her gown's many layers and made ragged rips in the fabric. Lily gripped the front of his robes and crawled up his front, pinning him to the ground.

"Lil!"

She gasped, hearing his voice through all the commotion. "Jake!"

M'raaj-Dar snarled and shoved her off him before summoning another zombie. Pointing one clawed finger toward her, M'raaj-Dar sneered and turned away just as the zombie started moaning and stomping toward her. The Khajiit vanished into the crowd.

Lily climbed to her feet as quickly as she could. Once she was back up, the zombie was right in front of her, bearing rotted teeth and a blackened, gummy gaze. The smell was rancid.

Gagging, Lily backed up and tried another spell. No, she was still silenced. M'raaj-Dar had used a very strong spell on her.

Just as the zombie came close enough to attack, Lily covered her face with the top layer of silky skirts and tackled it down. It growled and gurgled as it fell, and she collapsed on top of it, her arm sinking into its squishiness. She yanked her elbow out of its abdomen with a wet splash and fought back the urge to throw up.

"Lil! Oh, _ugh!_"

"Jake, help!" she squealed, struggling to stay on top of the zombie without sinking into it.

"Move back!"

Lily did as she was told and leaned backward, still sitting on its lower half. Jake suddenly appeared in her field of vision, bearing his Blade of Woe in one hand. In one swift movement, he knelt beside the pinned corpse and thrust the dagger into its forehead with a loud grunt. The zombie roared and flailed for a moment before falling still.

Panting, Lily accepted Jake's assistance to get back on her feet. He pulled the dagger out of its head and grimaced at it before holding it at its side.

"Why didn't you fight it off? Or kill that cat, for that matter?" he demanded. His cheeks were flushed and he was trembling. Right. He didn't like fighting like this. Or killing, even if he had to slaughter the undead.

"I'm _silenced_. I can't cast any spells and I don't know how long it'll last!"

Jake cursed loudly and looked around the room. "Gograk's doing well. He's an Orc; they can kill anything. The guards aren't useless either. I helped them get rid of that minotaur." Giving her a sharp look, he said, "You wanted excitement? Here it is."

Lily bit her lip and looked around. Not very many of the guests had been harmed. It looked like M'raaj-Dar was only there to cause panic, and the rest of the Dark Brotherhood were there to keep everyone together. The real goal of this was, obviously, for Dar'vaba to kill Jake.

The lich looked like it had killed a guard, however. The body sprawled on the ground didn't have the telltale signs of zombie bites and minotaur headbutts.

"Lily, come _on!_" Jake shouted. He was already quite a ways from her, pale and sweaty.

Lily nodded and quickly scooped up the guard's spear before running after him. She'd never so much as touched a spear before, but she needed something to stay alive.

They shoved through the surging mass of bodies until they made it to Gograk, Louis and Ida's sides. The Orc was panting heavily, but he was keeping up his strength, and Ida was pressed against the wall with silent tears running down her cheeks. Louis was holding a silver serving platter stained with zombie blood, his knuckles white where he gripped it.

"What's going on?" Gograk asked, seeing his mistress wasn't in any mood to ask questions.

"The Dark Brotherhood," Jake sighed, rolling his eyes. "Here to kill me _again_."

Gograk nodded and his piggy eyes settled on Lily, awkwardly rolling the spear around in her hands. "I haven't seen much help from the so-called mage."

She shot him a dirty glower. "I've been silenced, brute. Keep your trap shut while we figure this out," she snarled. Turning to Jake, she asked, "Have you seen Dar'vaba yet?"

"No. But he's got to be here, if the rest are. The Brotherhood never attacks in public like this. Never together. Never big groups. This isn't their style. This is only so he can finally get me. And see? They're all hooded." He directed her gaze to one door, where the two assassins standing by were wearing the same hooded cloaks M'raaj-Dar had been wearing. "They don't want people to know it's them."

Seeing the fear etched in the lines of his face, Lily held the spear with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other. "Jake," she murmured, "you'll kill Dar'vaba. Today."

He looked at her blankly, clearly not believing.

Gograk roared as one of the zombies approached. He beat it back with his bloodied candlestick weapon, and it screeched, lurching backwards before losing balance and falling over. The Orc grunted. "Stupid creature."

Lily helpfully finished it off with the pointed tip of the spear. Two zombies dead, two to go, plus one lich.

And they couldn't really hurt the lich while she was silenced.

Unless…

Holding up the spear, Lily asked, "My lady, what do you use to outfit your guards?"

Wiping her face, Ida sniffed and pointed her nose in the air, like a noble would. "Chainmail tunics and steel gauntlets and boots, and silver spears. Why?"

Lily's brows arched upwards. "Silver? Good. Gograk, get what guards you can and kill the zombies. When you're done, help me. Papa, protect the lady. Jake, come with me." Hefting the spear, she began to march toward the lich, where it was circling a pack of guests and terrorizing them with spells and calls.

Jake hurried up beside her. "What are we doing?"

"We, Jake, are going to kill a lich."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you were going to take me to my death, or something just as fucking ridiculous."

As they came near the lich, Lily lifted the spear and pointed the sharp end toward it. Glittering silver, it was really their only hope of stopping the ghost.

"Jake," Lily asked, swallowing a lump in her throat as the lich sensed their presence and turned to face them. "Is your Blade of Woe enchanted?"

He glanced at the ebony dagger in his hand, bloodstained and grotesque. "Nope."

Setting her mouth in a grim line, Lily muttered, "Shit," before stepping closer to the lich.

It screeched, loud enough to make her ears ring. Praying desperately to Akatosh for luck, Lily gripped the spear and thrust the tip at the spirit.

She expected it to go straight through and meet with nothing. To her extreme surprise, the lich screamed as the spear struck its middle and made Lily bounce back from the shock of striking solid.

Jake was gawking at the scene, jaw dropped.

Stunned for just a moment at her success, Lily forgot to attack. But when the lich howled again and moved toward her, she sprang to life and jabbed again and again.

Just as Gograk and the guards arrived, having slain the zombies, the lich was withering away and Lily was beaming with delight.

"That's all of them," Gograk reported, looking around the room. People were too shocked to move, so they stood where they were. The Dark Brotherhood members remained by the doorways, but surprisingly, M'raaj-Dar summoned no more creatures.

Some of the guards glanced at each other and allowed themselves little smiles. "Is it over?" one asked hopefully. "Is that it?"

Lily exhaled heavily and decided to return the spear to Lady Ida and commend her for her excellent staff equipment. She'd let Jake decide what to tell the guards. Smiling to herself, she marched across the centre of the ballroom—most of the guests were crowded around the edges, their backs to the wall, so the middle was pretty much empty—astonished she had been able to kill a lich.

When she reached Lady Ida and her father, she handed the spear over. Ida took it, blinking and shocked. "You're really good at keeping your guards equipped, ma'am," Lily said unceremoniously. "You know, just in case another lich decides to attack your house."

She waited for a response, but none came. Instead, Ida's eyes were fixed over Lily's shoulder, at whatever was behind her. Frowning, Lily turned and gasped at what she saw.

Gograk and the guards were surrounded by the hooded members of the Dark Brotherhood. Only Jake was left standing, clutching his stolen Blade of Woe in hand.

And before him was the creature he had stolen it from.

Dar'vaba.


	32. Every saga must end

Dar'vaba had no weapons. Dar'vaba needed no weapons. Dar'vab was armed with rage and claws.

Lily didn't even bother trying to cast a spell. She knew she was still silenced. But without her help, Jake would die. Dar'vaba would make sure of it this time.

She was no longer capable of conscious thought. She knew that.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Lily had torn off most of the petticoats that hadn't been ripped off during the fighting, leaving her legs mostly mobile. Next thing she knew, she raced across the room and leaped on Dar'vaba as he stalked Jake. They crashed to the ground with a painful, jarring thud, but that didn't stop Dar'vaba from thrashing beneath her. Lily struggled, but she managed to lock her forearm around his throat, effectively trapping him.

The whole thing took less than a minute.

"I won't let him do it this time, Jake," she panted, her chest heaving. She could feel Dar'vaba growling beneath her, but she tried to ignore it. He was so menacing though. That sound alone was enough to strike fear into her heart.

Lily tried to smother it. She'd lost sanity long enough to get him to the ground. She couldn't roll over, belly-up. Not yet.

"You're batshit crazy, Lil," Jake remarked, but he didn't seem disappointed by her actions.

There was some shuffling behind her, and she glanced back to see a few members of the Dark Brotherhood unsurely stepping toward her, as if to try freeing their brother.

During their indecision, Gograk leaped and caught the Orc around the neck, dragging him back. Inspired by his lead, the guards employed by Lady Ida did the same until the entirety of the sanctuary was successfully trapped.

Feeling the corner of her lip tug up into a smile, Lily muttered, "That easy, huh?"

Staring down at Dar'vaba, Jake replied, "They're only really effective on their own, with no witnesses. Like I said, this isn't how the family acts. This is… dishonourable, I guess."

Dar'vaba hissed and spat, but Lily refused to give up her hold.

"Can you do it, Jake?"

He glanced down at the dagger in his hand, then looked back at the Khajiit. "Not like this. This is just too easy. I'm not a coward, like him. I won't kill somebody defenceless."

Lily loosened her grip on Dar'vaba's throat, and the growl increased in volume, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "What do you want to do?"

Jake bit his lip and looked around. Seeing one of the guards standing without anything to do, he nodded toward him. "Can you hold him?"

The guard nodded his assent, albeit reluctantly, and he and Lily brought Dar'vaba to his feet. Lily backed over to Jake's side after the guard held Dar'vaba's arms tightly behind his back. His wrists were twisted from the way the guard was holding him, but the only sign of pain he showed was a flattening of his ears.

"Cub, you say you are not a coward," Dar'vaba snarled. His voice was harsh and raspy, like a cornered cat. "If you were not a coward, I would not be trapped. You would not have this one fighting your battles." He glowered at Lily, and she tried not to wince at the grotesque scars on his face, and the missing eye.

"Sure, but I think I'm granted a little cowardice. You're the one who attacks others to get what you want. Like when you took Baran and had that minion of yours stab Lil. And now, using the entire sanctuary to scare innocent people during an innocent party. This isn't how the Dark Brotherhood functions," he said again. "How much bribing did it take to get them to do this? To keep their mouths shut? You know _somebody's _gonna crack and spill the beans on this shenanigan. Lucien's _going _to find out."

Dar'vaba's lips pulled back, exposing his broken teeth. Those that remained were still sharp as razors, and made a shiver crawl down Lily's spine.

Jake sighed, even though everyone else within earshot looked terrified of the noise emanating from the cat. "Vaba, I heard that sound for the longest time. Three years. It doesn't scare me anymore. _You _don't scare me anymore."

Lily was sure she was the only one who knew he was lying through his teeth.

"I _could _kill you how you deserve. I could slit your throat from behind. Break your neck. That's what you would've done. Hell, I might do it anyways." Jake paused and simply watched his old companion for a long time. Lily eyed him nervously. He wasn't about to back down, was he? Suddenly, a fire burned in his eyes and he said, "I want it back, Dar'vaba."

Lily stared, dazed. Want what back?

A sudden memory blazed in her head, of Jake explaining why he and Dar'vaba travelled together. Martin was there beside her in the memory; it was when Jake had broken into Cloud Ruler Temple, just to see her.

'_He follows me wherever I go in case I meet up with Lucy Lachance and give him a stern no to his offer. I follow him wherever he goes because he stole something of mine when I was sleeping, and I really want it back. I won't leave him 'til it's mine again._'

Dar'vaba's single eye narrowed to a malicious slit. "It is gone."

Jake returned the stare with equal menace. "It's not."

The staring contest continued fruitlessly for several more minutes.

Finally, Jake said, "Search him."

Two of the free guards hurried over to the trapped Khajiit and began to rifle through the cloak he wore. It was tossed to the ground and more effectively perused, while the pockets of the cat's baggy trousers were rifled through as well. Finally, someone came up with a tiny cloth-bound book. The blue cloth was frayed and faded, and the pages yellowed, but the only other things turned up were pocket lint and scraps of paper.

Holding it up, the guard who found it asked, "Is this what you want?"

Jake nodded and held out his hand. "Yep. Thanks." He took it and gave Dar'vaba an 'I told you so' expression. "Now that I have this back, I really don't care what happens to you. So I think I'll just kill you now. And since I'm not a _complete _asshole, I'm not going to hang, draw, and quarter you, like most nobles probably would. I won't draw it out more than it needs to be. I'm not going to sugar coat it."

Dar'vaba's growl lessened severity. He probably just came to the realization that his fate had been determined and this time, there was no escaping it.

Jake looked at the Blade of Woe as he twirled it in his hand. "I guess this is goodbye," he murmured, and in one fluid motion, plunged the blade of the dagger beneath Dar'vaba's breastbone. The Khajiit jerked, eye bulging, but the guard holding him kept him still. Blood gurgled from the wound; trembles wracked the dark, furry body. Dar'vaba gasped as Jake shoved the blade in until only the cross-guard was visible.

Then, Jake neatly slipped the blade from Dar'vaba's chest. Blood spurted, quickly staining Jake's fine clothes. Another wavering gasp rattled the cat, and he suddenly relaxed. The guard released him, and he toppled to the floor. His fur stuck together as blood poured from the stab, and soon the flow slowed as his wounded heart stopped. The pants and gasps shortened and finally, he lay still in a puddle of his own sticky blood.

The silence was broken as Jake exhaled very slowly and calmly. Lily glanced at him, wide-eyed. The Blade of Woe was clenched tightly in his hand, blood staining the blade, cross-guard, and his fingers. He was staring at Dar'vaba's corpse, a very strange expression on his face. It was as if every emotion he was capable of was flicking through him as fast as they could, giving him no time to properly react to what he had done.

But Lucien Lachance was right, Lily realized, looking at Dar'vaba and trying to calm her own trembling. Jake did have the makings of a very good killer.

"Are you all right?" Lily whispered, gently reaching out to touch his arm.

Finally, Jake blinked, though he didn't turn his face away from the carnage. "I guess… I guess I expected it to be different. I expected more of a fight."

"He's gone, Jake," she murmured, moving close to him and pressing her face into his arm. "You're free now."

"No." He spoke so softly that she barely heard. "The rest of them will kill me for it."

Lily looked up at the Dark Brotherhood family, still trapped by Gograk and the guards. "Get out," she ordered stiffly. "Get out _now_."

Gograk perked up and shoved the Orc he held toward the exit. "Throw them onto the streets," the steward growled. "Let's see how Ulrich Leland likes dealing with you."

Once they were gone, Lady Ida finally came around to her senses. She strode across the room with Louis on her heels, until she was at Jake's side. "Everyone," she said, her voice high and clear, "may return home, or if you are not from the city, you may remain in my guest rooms if you wish. I apologize for what has happened." Looking to the guards that remained, she ordered softly, "Clean up this mess."

Knowing this was her cue, Lily firmly clasped Jake's wrist and towed him away from the scene. He was still clutching the Blade of Woe in one hand, and the tattered book in the other.

In silence, she led him out of the ballroom and through the many hallways of the manor. Finally, they arrived at their guest room. Lily released Jake's arm and made sure the door was firmly shut before quickly shedding the remains of the midnight blue gown. She lamented its loss, as it was so beautiful, but she had done what had to be done, and if that meant sacrificing a dress, so be it.

Once she had managed to free herself from the corset and was only wearing a simple cotton shift, she wandered up to the bed, where Jake had sat himself. The Blade of Woe was on the floor, staining the carpet. The book was in his hands, though the blood on his fingers was already dry, so it didn't get ruined.

Lily gently took it from him, and he didn't resist. Placing it on a bedside table, she said, "Okay, now you have to talk."

There had to be something extremely wrong with him if he didn't make a fuss or joke the entire time.

"I never thought I'd be the one to kill him." Jake's usually sparkling brown eyes were blank and lifeless as he stared at his hands. "I always thought, for three years, that he'd get me in the end. And even now… it was so… anticlimactic, I guess. I expected something super grand and amazing, like a duel, though I can't fight worth shit…"

"Your imagination went overboard?"

"I guess. I mean, it was _three years _I spent with him. I hated him, but he was the only one I had for so long… Methredhel hadn't joined the guild yet, so he really was all I had. Now he's dead. Just like that. Killed him with the dagger I stole from him. And now the rest of them… they never lose family members to people they've got contracts on. They just don't. They're the best killers in Tamriel. Lucy Lachance's going to be pissed. He'll probably put a hit on me himself."

"No, he won't. If you killed Dar'vaba, he'll know you're dangerous. He won't want to lose anymore."

"Sure, 'cept I could only kill Vaba because I finally had the upper hand. From cheating. I cheated to kill him." Jake blinked slowly and flipped his right hand over to inspect the blood fleckes. "Wow, I'm scum."

Lily's brows arched and she sat down beside him. "I never expected you to react this way."

"Me neither."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"I guess… in time."

Lily scanned him. Maybe he was in shock at what he had done. After all, like he had said, it had been three years, and Dar'vaba had been his only company for so long. To distract him, she rested her hand on her knee and asked, "What was that book?"

Jake finally looked up from his hands. "Oh, that. My childhood journal. I almost forgot he had it."

"May I?" Lily scooted over to the bedside table and picked up the book. He didn't answer, so she took it as a positive and opened to the first page. Somebody had written 'Property of Jacob Reman Bercarius the Sixth' in fancy cursive at the top. Maybe a servant had done it for him. Underneath were childish squiggles and doodles, made before he could write properly. By the next page, he had finally started to write. Immature, spelled wrong, but the words held a definite hint to the future Jake.

He took it from her quite suddenly and turned a few pages. "I was seven here," he said, tapping his finger on the page. "Already I was complaining about my father and my brothers and sisters. I wanted this back ever since he took it. It's the only thing I took when I left at fourteen."

"When did he take it from you?"

"A few nights after I took his Blade of Woe. We were kinda… stuck together after that."

Lily took the book from him and set it aside. With a sigh, Jake leaned on her shoulder, and she rested her head on his, forgetting for the moment her ridiculous hair and the comb poking into her scalp. "What now?"

"Can we not live in Cheydinhal anymore?"

"So soon?" It was a pitiful joke, but he laughed anyways, probably just to humour her. "Where do you want to go?"

"It depends. We could build a house in buttfuck nowhere." Jake sighed again. "What do you want to do?"

"Honestly? I could go back to farming."

Jake nuzzled closer to her. "I saw these people once, south of the Imperial City," he began softly. "They said they were going to start up a little farming town, but they couldn't because of goblins. That was a while ago. I bet they cleared the goblins out."

Lily smiled and shut her eyes. "What was it called?"

"Cropsford."


	33. But every ending is only a beginning

"Thank you for indulging an old woman," Ida said, cocking one eyebrow. "The inn is all prepared for the reception."

Lily smiled awkwardly as Amelie finished putting tiny white flowers in her hair. "It's… no problem, I guess. Thanks for the wedding gift."

Ida beamed and clasped her hands together in front of her. She wore a simple cream gown, only because Lily had politely requested a simple wedding. That was her contribution; the reception was all Ida's. "Well, it's the least I can do. The property is purchased, and the contractors are building the house, with the altar in the back, as you requested. The people of the town are delighted to have neighbours. I'm sure you'll fit in perfectly, though I'm not so sure about Jake… where is he, by the way?"

"Sulking." Lily cringed and smoothed her hand over the tiny bulge underneath her plain white silk dress. "He thought I was being spiteful in keeping it from him."

"Dear, how should you know?"

Lily smiled to herself as she rested her hand on her abdomen. "Well, the healer said it's been about three months. I should've noticed."

"With all the commotion? That incident at the party, planning a wedding and a house… no wonder you didn't notice you were pregnant." Ida beamed at her future daughter-in-law. "I can't wait to be a grandmother, personally. I think it's due time, since my eldest son is thirty."

Lily grinned this time. "Ida, he's only been thirty for fourteen days."

Ida waved her hand and rolled her eyes as if that was an unimportant detail. "Not the point. I just wanted to tell you that the priest you wanted just arrived, and is waiting for you in the temple. And, just as you wanted, only close friends and family allowed."

"Who does that include for you?" Lily's heart throbbed with pain; Baran and Marian weren't there, and she was going to be getting married. She wished they were there. She even wished Baurus and Jauffre could be there.

At least Martin would be.

Ida sighed. "All right, you and Jake will be there, as will this Ilav Dralgoner fellow. Me, Gograk, Oleta, Louis, Marie, Brom, Methredhel…" The lady trailed off, lightly pressing her teeth into her rouge-painted lip.

Lily tilted her head to the side. "Who else?"

"I _may _have invited High Chancellor Ocato… only because he really is a close friend, and this is a high-scale wedding."

Lily smiled and picked up a bouquet of white flowers. "All right, only because Ocato is actually a very nice man. Are we ready to start, then?"

Ida nodded and led the way out of the room. They quickly left the All-Saints Inn and strode across the fixed cobbles to the Temple of the One in the Imperial City, where, hopefully, everyone waited. After wishing Lily luck, Ida seemed to produce a fiery tiger lily out of nowhere.

"Why?" Lily asked, letting the woman gently set it in her hair.

"Just because," Ida replied, and slipped into the temple.

Lily exhaled heavily and looked up at the clear blue sky. The gods were kind enough to give her a beautiful wedding day, at least. "Thank you, Akatosh. For everything." With that, Lily opened the door and entered the Temple of the One.

There were no decorations. Ida had promised to leave everything regarding the wedding itself up to Lily. Guests—everyone Ida had mentioned, all in their Sundas best—were in two lines leading toward the dragon statue in the centre. Directly beneath it stood the primate of Akatosh, Ilav Dralgoner, and beside him was Jake, wearing a clean variant of his regular clothes.

His earlier sulkiness about not being informed of her pregnancy had worn off, apparently. He was wearing his regular scoundrel smile as he watched her walk toward him.

Above him, the statue of the avatar of Akatosh remained stony and still, but not cold or quiet. Lily knew if she were to touch it, it would be comfortingly warm and humming with Magicka—the essence of Martin Septim and all he had been. Lily felt tears brimming her eyes as she looked at it, and was reassured that this had been the perfect place to get married.

She came to Jake's side moments later. His smile had faded somewhat, but he still looked pleased. She could see it in his eyes and sense it in his soul.

"Is this what you want?" she whispered, trying to will the tears away.

Jake gazed at her for a while longer, until his eyes roamed up to the tiger lily in her hair. He smiled warmly when he saw it, but Lily didn't understand why.

He let their fingers lock together, but he let one hand remain free so he could gently run his fingertips along the side of her face, tracing her jaw and her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, just as quietly. "I could never want anything more."

Lily smiled and their hands hung together once more.

Ilav cleared his throat, bringing order to the temple. "We are gathered today, under the holy and almighty word of our Father Akatosh, to witness the bond between Jacob Reman Bercarius the Sixth and Lily Fleur Laroque become whole. Mother Mara bless her children in their journey of love and life until Oblivion takes them."

The priest turned to Lily, gazing at her expectantly.

Adjusting her hold on the bouquet and his hands, Lily looked up at Jake and said, clear enough for everyone to hear, "You were the force that brought me to Kvatch to become a priestess. And although I absolutely loathed you when I met you again—" Here, most people gasped. "—my time with you since has made me change my mind. You've been with me through hell and high water, Jake—and I really do mean hell. You did things for me that I could never have dreamed of." She sniffled, feeling the prickle of new tears behind her eyes. "You came to find me in Cloud Ruler Temple, knowing it was the home of the Blades and would likely bring you your death. You stayed in Oblivion with me, when you could've easily left and escaped. You made me a tiny bit less afraid of water. You stood up to the future emperor of Cyrodiil. You always survived for me.

"You let me care for you when you were sick or injured. You came for me in Cheydinhal when I was taken by the Dark Brotherhood, and you even came for me in Bruma after leaving me for so long. Things you weren't obligated to do, yet you did anyways. Like go into the Great Gate of Oblivion when Baran was gone."

More gasps. This wasn't common knowledge.

Lily didn't care. The look in his eyes at hearing everything made her heart swell with joy.

"In some way, everything you've done since we've met has made me love you more, even if it didn't seem like it at the time. You gave me the happiest years of my life when I was seventeen. And now, at the decrepit age of twenty-one, I hope you'll give me even more."

By the time she finished, tears were streaming freely down her cheeks, disturbing the makeup Amelie had so meticulously applied earlier in the morning.

There was a short silence before Jake spoke. "I can't say I wrote a Nordic saga like you did," he joked, and several people chuckled. "But you about summed it up. Way to take all the good stuff." Lily giggled wetly as the others laughed again. Jake's fingers tightened on hers, and she could feel him trembling. "All that stuff about Kvatch and being a priestess—total luck. I just said that because you were a weird kid wanting to go to the Arcane University, but not allowed to. I'm glad it worked out though. I can't imagine what you'd be like now if you'd stayed at the farm instead of going to a chapel.

"And I know I scared you when we met afterwards. But you know why I was so miserable, and you have to forgive me for it, even if you don't want to. Priestess, remember?"

"You ass," she muttered, and Ilav gasped.

"And you call 'em like you see 'em," he added, grinning. His hands were sweaty where she held them. "I stalked you halfway across the Empire, and for what? You were a bratty little girl with a temper she couldn't control. But I did it anyways. I stuck around when I didn't have to, and when I still had problems of my own to deal with. But I never could've solved those problems without you, Lil. I'd be dead a thousand times over without you."

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, then exhaled shakily. He was faltering. She knew he was nervous, but this much? Very discreetly, she conjured up a very weak rally spell and sent it to him through their connecting hands. The stiffness in his shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and she immediately recognized the light of newfound confidence in his eyes.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and you've got a brain to match. You're a self-trained mage who's saved my ass more than you needed to, and you've got a passion to go along with it. You never give up on what you want—even if that comes off as irritatingly stubborn at times—and you care for everybody, even if they don't deserve it. Like me. And when you love somebody…" Jake blinked and looked up. Lily wanted to follow his gaze, but she had to close her eyes instead, to prevent more tears from falling. "Man, you love 'em good. Until it seems like there's no more room in your heart to love anybody else, but then you prove everybody wrong and love some more. You're absolutely perfect in every way, Lil. I'm glad I found you when I did too, 'cause this is the first time in my life I've ever felt mature enough for someone like you. If I'd met you any younger, it never would've worked. I would've have let it, knowing me."

Jake blinked sagely, and Lily smiled warmly. Sure, he hadn't written a Nordic saga. He said way more than she did.

"There's not enough time in the world to list the reasons why, but it shouldn't matter anyways. Point is, I'm going to die with a lily…" He plucked the tiger lily from her hair and twirled it in his fingers. "Whether my life is long or short, I'll have spent it with you." Jake shut his eyes very briefly, then gave her a long, comforting stare. "And I know that's the fate I want. I love you."

Lily couldn't keep herself from beaming. He had never said it before; she had accepted that, but now that she'd heard it, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

So lost in her thoughts and gazing into his eyes, she almost missed what Ilav was saying.

"With the Divine watching upon us from Aetherius, the love and strength of Jacob and Lily's bond is secure with the power of the Father Akatosh. May you live long and happy, Jacob and Lily Bercarius."

As the crowd began to applaud and cheer, Lily smiled up at Jake, ignoring the tears still running freely down her cheeks. With a smirk, he bent down and kissed her, short and sweet but promising a later visit. When he straightened again, her tears were on his face. Or was he crying too?

Jake's hand slipped from hers to rest on the tiny swell beneath her dress. He was grinning widely, and Lily giggled at the sight of him, excited to become a father. And those tears were most definitely his.

"Y'know," he murmured, coming in close to her as those around began to merge and mingle. They remained before the dragon, ignoring all else around them. Gently rubbing his hand over the bump and leaning his forehead on hers, he said quietly, "I hate to admit it, but I'm glad Martin was here for this. It wouldn't have been right if he hadn't been."

Lily squeezed her eyes shut, feeling more tears escape. "He would've been at my wedding no matter what, whether you were in the picture or not."

Jake rumbled with suppressed laughter. "Whore."

"Jackass." Lily opened tearstained eyes and peered up at him. His eyes were shut, but a look of peace was on his face. It was the first time she had seen it since she met him. The corner of her mouth curled upward. "I love you so much, Jake."

Dark brown eyes fluttered open and a smirk played at his lips, a look Lily absolutely adored. "I know."

—————————

Well, it's over! I apologize if the ending seems short and rushed. I didn't mean it that way, but I did feel hurried to finish it, since I want to get started on a sequel. Yes, a SEQUEL! I've already got a bit started, and the plot is set up. It's called When Gods Descend, so look for it once I get it all set to go. Blessed Aetherius had a good run, and I'm glad where it ended up, even though I had no plot in mind when I started it. And thanks to everybody who stuck around and read during my random absences—and, ahem, reviewed. I live for reviews :)


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